Good Intentions
by AKA Jay
Summary: Set in the time when Angelus roamed free and Willow still babbled. When Willow tries to help Buffy feel safe, she has the best of intentions. That should have been a warning sign right there. (Willow/Angelus, in that they're there and interacting.)
1. Chapter One

**GOOD INTENTIONS**

Author: Ash   
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, no matter how much I might want to, and someday I'll learn to accept that.   
Feedback: Would be appreciated.  
Summary: Set in the time when Angelus roamed free and Willow still babbled. When Willow tries to help Buffy feel safe, she has the best of intentions. That should have been a warning sign right there.  
  
**Part One**  
  
The moon hung low in the sky, shedding only enough light to cast shadows into black relief. Buffy shifted impatiently on her headstone perch and swung her legs in idle circles. Occasionally she glared at the freshly turned patch of earth beneath her.   
  
"Come _on_," she muttered. "Wake up already." She wondered if bringing a shovel on patrol would be considered unsporting. And what if she got the wrong corpse? That could open whole new frontiers of ick.  
  
"Bored already, lover?"   
  
He was behind her.  
  
Buffy half jumped half fell from the headstone; her feet sank deeply into the soft black dirt and it clung to her like tar. She tried to turn around, couldn't turn around, had to turn around because he was still there. And he was coming closer.  
  
"I remember when you could go all night without a break."  
  
He was moving around her. But slowly. Very slowly.  
  
Buffy twisted her head around and caught just a glimpse of laughing yellow eyes before he moved away again.  
  
"But now... you're pathetic. Weak."  
  
Yanking on her legs had no effect; they remained firmly rooted. Her nails cut gashes in the thick denim and the skin below. Blood ran into her shoes, into the dirt.   
  
"I can help you."   
  
There was a smile in the words, and he was getting closer. Very quickly.  
  
Buffy tried to dodge the blow she felt coming; the air was as thick as water or blood and it dragged against her, slowed her down. His arm snaked around her neck, pulled her back until she was curved like a bow, her legs now trapped up to the knees in the horribly soft, horribly wet ground.  
  
"No." Buffy managed to say out loud, bringing the stake she held up slowly. (too slow) He knocked it away easily and left her hands convulsively grasping at nothing. "Stop." Her windpipe was shrinking, dwindling like her vision, in a second both would be gone.   
  
"Calm down," He said into her ear.   
  
His arm relaxed and Buffy took in a painful breath of metallic air. I'm alive, she thought in a hysterical rush. I'm alive alive alive not going to die.  
  
He chuckled. One hand ran up through her hair, hair, the feel of strong cold fingers against her scalp bringing a familiar twinge of pain.   
  
"No, you're not going to die." His grip on her hair tightened, pulled, and forced her head to the side. Angelus lowered his head and spoke against her skin; "You're going to live forever."   
  
Hands closed around her sunken ankles, pulling her down to darkness.  
  
"No!" Buffy jerked upright in bed, her hands snapping to her face. She ran her fingers over the smooth skin as if memorizing her own features, feeling the dry salty rasp of dried tears under her fingertips. I've been crying, she told herself. Vampires don't cry. Vampires can't cry. I've been crying.   
  
It took a few minutes before her mind could process any thought but that. When she could think, the first thing she did was look quickly over at the floor next to her bed. To her relief, the bundle of blankets and pillows showed no signs of life.  
  
Buffy lay back down carefully, feeling for the first time that her mattress was -too- soft and giving. She closed her eyes on new tears, hoping she wouldn't fall asleep again, knowing that she would. Let's see, she thought through the already growing muzziness, that makes three things Slayers can't get that I want: sick days, sex and insomnia. What does that say about my life?   
  
Within moments she was asleep again.  
  
Willow opened her eyes and stared blindly into the darkness.  
  
That's three nightmares in a row, she thought. And from the circles under Buffy's eyes this probably wasn't the first night this had happened.  
Willow felt useless. Not just felt, _was_ useless. She couldn't tell Buffy that it would be all right, she couldn't make the monsters disappear, she couldn't even promise Buffy that she wouldn't be vamped, not with Angelus out there acting like it was his personal duty to bring to life every nightmare his 'ex' had ever had.  
  
Besides, Willow thought hopelessly, She's Buffy, save-the-world-girl, stakes vampires in a single bound, the Chosen One. And I'm... She grimaced. ...net girl.  
  
It took a few minutes of silent contemplation before a slow grin started to spread in the darkness. I'm _net girl_, she thought again. I'm research woman; I can find an answer to every question, a solution to every problem. I can't do what she does, but I can do what I do. It's about time I started doing that.   
  
Willow was still smiling as she snuggled more securely into her sleeping bag, her toes reflexively feeling along the bottom for stray frogs. Finding herself frog free, she drifted off.  
  
*****  
  
THUMP  
  
Another book joined the growing pile of tomes stacked on the library counter.  
  
There, Willow thought with satisfaction: the complete History of Vampires. That ought to do it. She glanced around furtively and then began to stuff the books into her bag. She stopped. She sighed.   
  
I can't do this, she thought. It's wrong. Willow took the books back out and began the laborious process of signing each one out. So much for working in secret, she thought wryly. Well, I may have signed them out, but there's no way I'm filing the cards. Nope. No way. Not gonna.  
  
She packed up the books again and marched towards the door, smirking to herself. She was in control. She was a rebel. She could just leave the cards lying there all wild and in disarray on the desk.   
  
Pause.   
  
Where anyone could see them.   
  
Stop.   
  
Where Giles could see them, she thought with sudden panic. And wonder what I'm doing with all these books. I forgot about Giles!  
  
"Good day, Willow." The voice disturbed her thoughts on the knotty problem of Giles and she looked up.   
  
"Giles!" Willow said, her face freezing into a manic grin. She was intensely aware that the cards were right behind her. She needed a distraction and she needed it _right away_.  
  
"Is that a new suit?" Willow asked desperately.   
  
"Why, yes. I'm gratified that you noticed," Giles said, fingering the lapels smugly. "It's reassuring to know that at least one American can ...er... spot the difference between the varieties of tweed."  
  
This is good, Willow told herself. We have a topic. Now, get him out of the library before he notices the cards. We have to be subtle or he's going to suspect that there's something going on. Subtle, Willow. Subtle. "You'd be surprised!" she blurted.   
  
Giles looked up from his suit, his brow creasing. "What?"  
  
Willow smiled innocently at him, hoping he didn't notice that her eyes were watering. "You'd be surprised, uh, how many people...like tweed!" That almost made sense. She decided to go with it.   
  
"As a matter of fact," Willow continued, glancing out the library door, "I happen to know that Miss Blanchard is passionately interested in tweed! And look, there she goes now!"   
  
"Really?" Giles eyed Miss Blanchard's retreating back sceptically. "Are you quite sure?"  
  
Willow nodded quickly. "Oh yes," she said. "You should talk to her. Now. About tweed!" Tone it down, she cautioned herself. "I mean, since she'd be interested."  
  
Giles gave her a last odd look before he turned and went out the doors. She heard a surprised feminine voice say, "Why, hello Mr. Giles! Your suit-?" before the library doors mercifully swung shut.  
  
Willow's shoulders slumped and she offered up a silent but heartfelt apology to Miss Blanchard. Two steps carried her back to the counter where she swept all the carefully signed cards into her bag before running out of the library, wracked with guilt.  
  
*****  
  
Willow had to wait until that night before she could begin searching for a way to vamp-proof Buffy. Securely locked in her room, she spread all of her resources across the floor in a huge semicircle of books that fanned out with her at the center. I have the books, she thought. I have the links, I have the time. Let's go!  
  
Several hours later, Willow surfaced from her paper nest and faced the unpleasant possibility that she didn't have the time. At this point, it was beginning to look like only vampires would have enough time to do this kind of research. Not that they would, but they could.   
  
Willow thought about that, and she thought about the things Buffy said into her pillow while she slept, and she bent again over the books.   
  
Her computer beeped. She hopped up nimbly, shedding books like water, and picked her way over to the computer. The e-mail icon was flashing; when she clicked on it one message came up. It was from someone at grizelda@vox.com, and the body of the message was empty. The subject header read, "Lure of the Shadows, reversed."   
  
Willow's eyes widened. Falling to her knees, she dug through the books, pushing volume after volume aside until - she triumphantly pulled out a large book that looked like it had been designed as a prop for a wizard's lair. Gold letters crawled in spidery script over the black cover, spelling out "Legends of Nightfall."   
  
She flipped quickly through the book until she found the spell she vaguely remembered reading. She'd barely scanned it then, but now a sunny smile crept over her face as she read.   
  
It was no wonder that she'd missed it on the first read through; the Lure of the Shadows spell was intended to -summon- demons, not repel them. But the clue was in the details - the spell itself was designed to be cast on a human. The spell made the blood of the sacrifice irresistible to demons, the otherworldly equivalent of smearing peanut butter on a pinecone and tossing it in a squirrel cage.   
  
Willow couldn't suppress a shudder at the thought of how many people this spell had doubtless turned into instant no-fail demon bait.   
  
It was pleasant to think that she might make up for some of the evil the spell had caused in the past if she reversed it properly.   
  
The best part is that I don't even have to tell Buffy, Willow thought. At least, not until I'm sure it worked. That way, nothing could go wrong!   
Willow frowned to herself and muttered, "I wish I hadn't thought that."  
  
**************  
  
One school day and a few quick shopping trips later, Willow stood in her room surrounded by assorted occult paraphernalia. She ran through her mental checklist for the thousandth time before beginning the preparations, which were long and complex and involved a good many more sticky liquids than Willow would have preferred. She stopped frequently to wash her hands and put down newspapers. Not for the first time, she wished her parents hadn't put in shag carpeting.  
  
The preparations complete, she read over the revised words of the incantation one more time before she stepped into the center of the overlapping marks that gleamed in wet black circles on the floor.   
  
She carefully placed a picture of Buffy inside one of the smaller circles by her feet, and wished for a panicked moment that she'd written the words of the incantation on her hand instead of trying to memorize the whole thing in one go. She took a deep breath and began.  
  
Closing her eyes and spreading her arms, she spoke to the dead sorcerer Maltheus, addressing him as master and friend. She begged him to lend her the power of the balance he had created that the blood of the sacrifice would be as something unclean to the brethren of the pit.   
  
The syllables of a forgotten time fell from her lips as she praised his power, asking him to force the demons to fear his strength as she did. She bound the name of Angelus into the spell, and bade him be doubly affected by the workings of the magic.  
  
She picked up the picture of Buffy without opening her eyes, carefully placing it in the bowl of water and herbs that stood ready by her hand. She held the bowl above her head as she spoke the words of ending and entreaty.   
  
Steam spilled over the sides of the bowl and streamed over Willow's face and hands in white rivulets. The clay of the bowl was ice against Willow's fingers when she lowered it, still steaming, to her lips.   
  
The strange taste in her mouth was inconsequential, a fading note buried under the growing roar in her ears. The carpet was rough under her cheek; she tried to remember falling. The black hole in the center of her mind was an insistent tug; she let her thoughts fall into it and was grateful when it closed behind them and took them away.   
  
The candles went out.  
_____  
  
Note:   
  
Some people might remember this fanfic. Those would be people with fantastically good memories, considering how long ago I first posted it. However, in a burst of nostalgia, I finally finished it and have now decided to impose it on you guys to achieve some kind of literary closure. *g* The entire thing is being re-edited, which is surprisingly fun.  
  
You know, I miss Angelus. There was something about him that appealed to me. Maybe it was the leather pants, maybe it was the smirk, maybe it was his sense of humor... Funny guys are sexy, y'know. Even when their humor is almost entirely centred around blood, death and the prospect of more death to come. It's sad but true.  
  
Comments are always appreciated, of course.   



	2. Chapter Two

Title: Good Intentions  
Author: Ash   
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, no matter how much I might want to, and someday I'll learn to accept that.   
Feedback: Would be appreciated.  
  
Summary: Set in the time when Angelus roamed free and Willow still babbled. When Willow tries to help Buffy feel safe, she has the best of intentions. That should have been a warning sign right there.  
  
**Part Two**  
  
Buffy blinked as a cold wave of _something_ washed over her. The feeling only lasted for a second, but for that moment her skin felt like a patchwork of snowflakes stitched together. And then the air was once again warm and dry, and she shrugged off the strange sensation with a shudder.   
  
Giles looked up from the book he was reading.   
  
"Slayer intuition?" He asked, managed to put both sympathy and hope into his voice.   
  
Poor Giles, Buffy thought. Always waiting for me to turn into some kind of supernatural bloodhound. She wrinkled her nose and said, "Sorry, I don't think my Slayer senses are up to that kind of tingling yet. Someone must have walked over my grave." She looked around at the cemetery. "No pun intended."  
  
"What? Oh. Yes."  
  
The guest of honor chose that moment to appear, as the dark earth of the grave suddenly sprouted a pair of white hands. Buffy and Giles watched as the hands scrabbled and clawed for purchase until the new vampire finally disinterred itself with one mighty heave. Clods of loose dirt fell away as he pulled himself to his feet, staggering a little.  
  
Buffy was glad that he was already wearing his game face; it was harder to stake the new ones when they stared at her with confused human eyes. She shifted her grip on the stake and waited for him to rush her.  
  
Instead, the vampire just stared at her. He took a step backwards, nearly tripping over his own headstone. He was frowning.   
  
"You're not going all shy on me, are you?" Buffy said, moving towards him. "Don't I look like a cure for the midnight munchies?" She took another step closer.  
  
The vampire's eyes widened, and he turned to flee. He made it to the edge of the cemetery at approximately the same time as the flying stake and most of him abruptly stopped moving, although a few particles were blown all the way across the street.  
  
Buffy shifted out of her fighting stance and turned to face Giles. "Well, that was strange."  
  
Giles looked up from his book again. "Hmmm?"  
  
"I..." Buffy started, and then realised that if she told him what happened it would inevitably lead to research. If she kept quiet, it'd be Bronze-ward ho!   
  
"It's nothing," Buffy said quickly. "Just my usual banter. Talk, talk, talk, that's all I do. Giles? That was the last of the ones on the list, and I've patrolled the rest of the graveyard."  
  
"Very good." Giles said absently, turning a page.  
  
"Can I go now?" Buffy asked hopefully.  
  
"Mmm? Oh, of course." Giles said, motioning her to leave without looking up from the book.   
  
Buffy walked to the edge of the cemetery and then turned back to check...He was still sitting there. "Giles!" She called loudly.  
  
"What?"   
  
"Find someplace safe to read?"  
  
*****  
  
The next morning seemed to last forever. For the first time, Willow understood why other people were always complaining about school. The teachers _were_ boring, the material _was_ useless, and the rules against talking in class were purely sadistic. She couldn't wait until lunchtime.   
  
Even when the lunch bell rang, she still had to wait. She stoically endured food selection, food purchasing and the choosing of seats. Once she, Buffy and Xander were settled at their usual table, she couldn't take it anymore. She had to know if anything had happened last night to make her two-hour clean up session and ten hour migraine worth it. But, she cautioned herself, I have to be cool about it this time. Don't want a repeat of the tweed thing.   
  
"So Buffy," Willow said innocently. "Did anything happen while you were slaying last night?" Both Buffy and Xander stared at her. Uh oh, Willow thought. What did I say- oh! "I mean, when you were...out?"   
  
Xander raised his hands in victory. "Hah!" He whooped "Somebody else said it! I'm not the only idiot around here!" The cafeteria fell silent. Everybody looked at Xander.  
  
As the talking resumed, Buffy patted Xander's hand and said, "No, but you're definitely in the top ten."   
  
Xander slumped forward and put his head on the table.   
  
"Xand-" Buffy started to say, but Xander put up his hand to stop her.  
  
"No. Nobody comfort me. I don't deserve to be comforted. There's nothing anyone could possibly say that would make me feel less stupid right now."  
  
Buffy exchanged a look with Willow. "Xander, your hair is in my fries." Buffy said.  
  
Xander raised his head. "Oh. Well, I was right. I feel no less stupid."  
  
Willow smiled. Xander was so cute when he was embarrassed. Wait! Back on topic! "So... Anything interesting happen last night?"   
  
Buffy shrugged and took another sip of her milkshake. "Nope."   
  
Darn it, Willow thought.   
  
"Oh wait, there was one thing..."   
  
Hope lives!   
  
"Yeah, the new growly I was waiting for didn't even try to fight. He just... sniffed, and ran away." Buffy shook her head. "Weird. So, why'd you ask?"  
  
Inside Willow's mind, she was dancing a jig. It worked! She'd done it! Then, thinking a little more clearly, she said, "Oh, I was just curious. You know, life's been sort of normal lately." It would probably better to not tell Buffy until she was sure. It could have been a fluke. But she didn't think so!   
  
Buffy put her head to one side and raised her eyebrows, "If you're tired of normal," she said. "Why don't you come out on patrol with me tonight? No ancient prophecies, so it's going to be practically doom-free!"  
  
"Sure." Willow said eagerly. "Sounds like fun!" Fun? "I mean, in that demon killing is a good thing, so therefore... fun?"   
  
"Okay, Wills. I'll meet you at seven. Bring your own stake if you can or, failing that, chocolate." That settled, the group spent the remainder of the lunch hour talking about more plebeian horrors like tests, curfews and the ever-looming spectre of midterms.  
  
*********  
  
Angelus walked the streets of Sunnydale. This is much the same as saying that the plague walked the streets of Sunnydale, if the plague only killed the attractive and well dressed.  
  
He'd taken the edge off his first hunger with a randomly chosen waitress and was now prepared to be a little more discriminating. Maybe he'd be lucky enough to find one of the Slayer's friends walking around alone. Maybe he could make his own luck.  
  
The only thing he was sure about was that he couldn't stand to do another round of "Buffy, I've got my soul back! Come here, darling!"   
  
He was famous for having a strong stomach - or rather, he was famous for certain other aspects of his personality which necessitated having a strong stomach as well as a soundproofed basement, but this was getting ridiculous.  
  
Baiting Buffy was like hitting one of those inflatable clown dolls. No matter how many times he hit her, up she popped. Buffy, by herself, wasn't this strong. He knew Buffy down to the bone. He knew to an inch how much pain she could stand before she broke, before her mind tore itself down like a paper house. She'd already passed that point.   
  
But still, up she popped. That was the Slayer in her, always kicking in just before he could finish her off. Strong. Powerful. Frustrating as hell.  
  
And then there was Drusilla. Angelus closed his eyes in pain, remembering the events of the day. He'd driven her so far off the edge that even he could hardly stand her. If he didn't so enjoy seeing Spike quietly miserable Angelus would have staked Dru out for the sun long ago. With Miss Edith right beside her. He smirked at the thought.  
  
What the hell had made Dru think you could build a maypole out of skulls?   
  
Angelus was starting to think that what he really needed was a happy medium somewhere between unbreakable and look-the-skulls-are-falling-down-like-comets-crashing.  
  
Caught up in his thoughts, Angelus was taken off guard by the scent of blood coming from somewhere nearby.   
  
Angelus stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air, ignoring the strange looks of the humans around him. He wanted to... he wanted to...   
  
He didn't know what he wanted to do. The scent was confusing, dualistic, disturbing. If it had come in air freshener form, there would have been a yin-yang symbol on the box.   
  
On the one hand, it smelled like the blood of a thousand virgins, purity distilled, innocence begging for corruption. There was darkness there that called to his demon, hints of the multi-textured tastes of despair and conquest and death. It invaded his body via his nose and coiled around his brain like a slick black snake.  
  
On the other hand... Angelus wrinkled his nose. The other half of the smell wasn't bad. There are very few bad smells that can disgust a demon, especially one who lived in the times when saying 'personal hygiene' was like saying 'personal hovercraft'.   
  
This smell wasn't bad, it was boring. It was more than that, it was indifference; the disinterest in death and life alike that stole the pleasure from pain and made eternal life something to be endured rather than enjoyed. If the other was a snake, this was a wall of grey fog, entrance to pale oblivion.  
  
The one pulled him, the other repelled him.  
  
Curiosity broke the tie.  
  
Angelus followed the scent. As he went it grew stronger until it was almost a tangible presence in the air. By the time he reached the cemetery his mind was full of it, innocence and apathy tangling together around his thoughts. Tangling together but becoming separate, and that didn't confuse him, because nothing mattered except finding out what it was. What they were.  
  
People were talking up ahead.  
  
"..so I said, well, I got the right continent, shouldn't I get part marks?"   
  
Buffy. Of course. Slayer blood always was heady stuff. He began to move more slowly, trying to fix her exact position.  
  
"Actually Buffy, Australia is a... right, the unfairness of it! How... how dare she?!"   
  
And Willow, too. Well, well. He was hoping to run into her soon. Alone. But with Buffy suddenly smelling so sweet he might have to kill her sooner than he'd planned and that would make torturing and killing her friends pointless, gratuitous violence of the worst kind. His favourite kind. Things were looking up.  
  
"Thank you for your sympathy." Buffy said, trying to sound upset.  
  
Angelus was close enough now to see the two girls sitting on a blanket in front of a fresh grave. It resembled nothing so much as a morbid kind of picnic, but the humour of the situation was completely lost on Angelus. He moved forward, letting the leaves rustle under his feet.  
  
Buffy looked over her shoulder, her face open and laughing. When she saw Angelus, the smile faded from her mouth and from her eyes. "Angel..." she said, getting to her feet.  
  
Angelus smiled as he walked towards her, feeling his features shift as he got closer to the scent of her. "Close."  
  
"Willow, get out of here." Buffy said quietly. Behind her, Willow took a step backwards, her eyes fixed on Angelus.   
  
"Willow?" Buffy repeated. "Go home. Now."   
  
Willow took a few more stumbling steps backward and then turned and ran, disappearing around the headstones with her hair rising and falling like the red snap of a fox's tail.  
  
There was a shift in the concentrated scents that were doing to Angelus' brain what taffy does to the gears of a well-oiled clock. Blood lust faded, and disgust came boiling in to fill the space it left behind. The change distracted him long enough to let Buffy get in a high kick to the side of his head.   
  
He recovered quickly, grabbing her arms when she came in for the kill. That close to her, the taste was unbearable and he pushed her away hard.  
  
Buffy landed on her feet, but Angelus was already backing away.   
  
"Some other time," He called back to her as he jumped the fence, his head clearing as she got farther away. By the time he reached the road it was clear enough for him to know that _Willow_ had been there when he'd scented ambrosia, and when _Willow_ had gone the scent had gone too and therefore it was _Willow_ that he was mindlessly following now, moving quickly after the scent like a wolf following a trail.   
  
He grinned into the darkness as he went.  
  
________________  
  
End Part Two   
  
Heh. After the last part, I got a few letters saying that they were one step away from sending me a reproachful letter for plagiarism... right up until they saw the note at the end. For some reason, I find that both amusing and reassuring. It's great to know that there are literary watchdogs out there, waiting to pounce on people (possibly drunk, possibly crazy) who want to take over my fics and rewrite them. *g*  
  
I spent a fun hour today trying to explain to a friend who has only seen "Angel: The Television Series" why she should immediately come over and let me show her all the Buffy episodes featuring "Angelus: The Magnificent Bastard." She had trouble picturing Angel as evil, and when I mentioned the sense of humor she said, "But Angel _has_ a sense of humor!" It's really hard to explain the keenness of Angelus to anyone who hasn't seen Angel in season one brooding all around the place and never once showing any signs of wanting to go to a karaoke bar.  
  
Thank god for the leather pants. That got her.  
  
Ahem. Yes. Glad so many people remembered this story, and I have responded to all the reviews in the review section because I can't help it. I'm awful that way. Ten-step programs, self-hypnosis tapes, all have been powerless to stop me from mindlessly replying to my reviews in the review section. I'm not giving up hope, though. I've heard some good things about this new technique where they submerge you in a pool of water the exact temperature of your body and then throw your computer in there with you. *g*   
  
Comments are always appreciated, of course.   
  
Ash  
  



	3. Chapter Three

**GOOD INTENTIONS**

Author: Ash   
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, no matter how much I might want to, and someday I'll learn to accept that.   
Feedback: Would be appreciated.  
Summary: Set in the time when Angelus roamed free and Willow still babbled. When Willow tries to help Buffy feel safe, she has the best of intentions. That should have been a warning sign right there.  
  
**Author Note: **A little extra bonus this time, kind of like a late Christmas present, but not really. *g* A drawing I did, inspired by this story, based on photos of Willow and Angel(us)  
  
There's a black and white version, done in pencil, and the same drawing colored in with colored pencil. They're both at my site here:   
  
http://xanadu-dreams.com/drawings.htm  
  
They're at the bottom of the page, since they're my newest ones. You know, I can't believe I haven't drawn Willow or Angelus before. I feel so ashamed. I hope you guys like them, I had a lot of fun making them. It's an entertaining new hobby. :)  
  
**Part Three**

Willow's heart was racing as she fled towards her house. Her feet were on the sidewalk, but her mind was still back in the cemetery with Buffy and Angelus.   
  
He didn't seem repulsed, she thought sadly. Back to square one for me She was glad now that she hadn't told Buffy about the spell. It would have broken her heart.. At least this way Willow got another chance. She'd get the spell right this time. Or the next time. Or as many times as it takes.  
  
Her house came into view and Willow put on a final quick burst of speed that ended when she arrived, breathless, on the porch. Fumbling her keys out of her pocket, she leaned against the front door as she tried to sort out her house key from the rest of the bunch. Library key, unknown key, hard drive key, key to the music box Xander had given her when they were five, *another* unknown key  
  
"Here, let me help you with those." The silky voice came from directly behind her and her keys were gently tugged out of her hands. Willow stood immobile, staring at her empty hands. Please be Xander, she thought.   
  
She turned after waiting for what felt like an eternity and found herself looking at a broad expanse of black satin. Not Xander. Raising her eyes, she met Angelus' gaze, his eyes very dark in the half-light.  
  
"Th..thanks." Willow said jerkily, looking away from his eyes to stare at the keys Angelus held in his hands. His large, strong, deadly hands, she thought with a flutter of panic. Where was Buffy? "I'm okay." She said hopefully. "Really. I can find the right one myself."  
  
Angelus raised an eyebrow and said, "Really?" Turning away from her, he threw the keys into the bushes beside the house. When he turned back, Willow was halfway to the edge of the porch.  
  
Willow squeaked as his cold hand closed around her wrist and brought her to a sudden halt. With a frightening lack of effort, Angelus dragged her back until she was once again standing staring at his chest. Well, Willow thought, that didn't work - back to basics. She opened her mouth to scream.  
  
Angelus clamped his free hand over her mouth and leaned in very close to her. "You can scream if you want to," he whispered against her cheek. "I don't mind at all. I'll enjoy hearing you scream, Willow. But..."   
  
But? Willow thought.   
  
Angelus slowly released his hold on her mouth, his hand never losing contact with her skin as it slid down to grasp her chin. He forced her head up until his dark eyes met her frightened ones.   
  
"Other people might hear you scream and come to interrupt the pleasant conversation we're having." He continued, his eyes searching hers. "I'd have to kill them, of course. I hate pushy people, don't you?"   
  
After a long moment he said, "Well? Aren't you going to scream?"   
  
Willow swallowed hard and shook her head.  
  
Angelus smiled and released her chin. "I knew you were a sensible girl," he said. "Now, I have a few questions to ask you and since the Slayer will be here any minute, you have three choices. One, you can invite me in."   
  
Willow's eyes widened and she shook her head again emphatically, still trying not to make any noise.   
  
"Two," Angelus continued in a calm tone. "You can come home with me."   
  
Yipe! Willow thought, more vampires! No on a grand scale. No cubed. She shook her head again.  
  
Angelus sighed. " Maybe later. I suppose that leaves choice number three, then. We adjourn to your balcony."   
  
That was definitely the lesser of the three evils. Wait, Willow thought. Later?   
  
Willow nodded reluctantly, and then realized something. "Um, could I go in through the house and meet you on the balcony in about five minutes? I'm not very good at climbing."   
  
Angelus just looked at her. "I don't think so." He said finally. "Either you're trying a not-too-clever trick to get away or... you'd actually meet me. It would be interesting to find out which, but not quite interesting enough for me to let you out of my sight."  
  
Willow frowned. "I'm really, really not good at climbing. I'm mind-bogglingly bad at it, actually. The last time I tried to climb up the trellis I fell. Twice! Three times if you count the part where I fell off the porch!"   
  
If I have to climb up there, Willow thought, I'll probably fall on my head and die and if I don't, he's definitely going to kill me. There's no good here!   
  
Angelus smiled in a wholly unreassuring way. "Not a problem."   
  
Before Willow knew what was happening, he had scooped her up with one arm and was holding her tightly against his chest. Willow had the sudden thought that maybe it would have been better to climb on her own and fall and die, but by then they were already halfway up the trellis.   
  
Willow looked down at the ground as it moved away from her in little jumps. I could still jump, she thought. As if in response to her thoughts, Angelus' arm tightened around her painfully, making her fight for breath. Or not, Willow thought. Ow.  
  
Then they were on the balcony. Angelus was still holding her. Not quite tightly enough to interfere with her breathing now, but definitely tightly enough to keep her from wriggling out of his grasp. Willow kicked her feet experimentally, hoping to connect with solid ground, or possibly Angelus' shin. No such luck.   
  
Willow pushed against Angelus' arm in a vain attempt to pry herself free. It was like pushing against a stone wall.   
  
"You can put me down now." Willow said, twisting in his grasp to try and look up at his face and finding that she could only manage it by leaning her head against his shoulder and then tilting her face up. It hurt her neck, but at least she could see him.   
  
She noticed that his eyes seemed slightly unfocused. He looks like Xander when he's around Buffy, she thought. Or like Buffy when she was around shoes  
  
"Angel?" Willow asked tentatively.  
  
Angelus seemed to snap out of it. "No," he said in a harsh voice. "My name is Angelus."  
  
"Um, sure. Angelus. Could you put me down now?" Pretty please? She smiled tremulously up at him.  
  
Placated, Angelus smiled and lowered her to the ground, sliding her slowly against the length of his body in the presence. Willow shivered at the feel of the satin against her skin. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she cast a hopeful look over at the balcony door. Maybe she could make a run for it.   
  
Catching her glance, Angelus instantly moved to put himself between her and the door, trapping her between him and the balcony rail with only a few inches of space separating them. He shook his head, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.   
  
"Naughty Willow." Angelus said. "Don't even think about leaving yet."  
  
********  
  
Angelus could hear the blood rushing through Willow's body, every beat of her heart calling to him, taunting him. Tempting him. The smell of blood hung thick as fog in the air, and in his mind. Suddenly, the question of why Willow was suddenly so attractive was not nearly as important as the question of what he was going to do about it.  
  
He took a step towards her and put his hands on her shoulders. That felt right, getting closer to her. Closer to the blood. He realized that he was stroking her arms gently, up and down, up and down. He could feel her trembling under his palms and that felt right too. Was it fear or excitement that made her tremble? Did he care? He decided that he didn't.   
  
"I..I...You" Willow said, the broken sentence catching his attention. He could almost hear her thoughts racing. No doubt she was trying to think of something, anything she could say that would make him go away.   
  
"I have homework due tomorrow!" She finally managed to say.  
  
What? Angelus thought.   
  
Willow's body stiffened and the fear seemed to melt from her. Her eyes widened, possibly focusing on a failing grade in the middle distance, and she pushed blindly past Angelus, heading for the door.  
  
Surprise slowed his reaction and Willow's hand was already on the handle by the time Angelus reached her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her back around to face him.   
  
"You didn't really think that I'd let you go, did you?" Angelus said in a low and dangerous tone. He pushed the collar of her shirt aside to expose her neck and started to lean in-   
  
"Calculus." Willow said absentmindedly. "I...have to do Calculus."   
  
Angelus pulled back and looked into Willow's eyes. They were still unfocused. He snapped his fingers in front of her. Nothing.   
  
"Willow?" Angelus said. She'd stopped trembling, he noticed. He didn't like that. In an attempt to shock her out of her homework-induced catatonia, he tilted her head to the side and began placing soft kisses along her neck. The scent of her blood rose strongly from the pulse beating in her neck, making his head swim.  
  
"Willow?" He said, and kissed the point of her jaw. "Wake..." His mouth traced a path along her jawbone. "Up!" Losing patience, he nipped sharply at her neck and broke the skin. A few drops of blood trickled from the bite and he greedily licked them away.  
  
The taste of the blood washed over him like a black tide and Angelus was lost. The sweetness of it, the heat of it, the *depth* was unbelievable, unbearable. It snapped his control like a twig.   
  
He was in game face now with no memory of shifting.. He bit down in earnest this time, blood rushing into his mouth like liquid life; hot and right and everything that he wanted. It was too good, he had to stop, he was losing control. He couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.  
  
In one dim corner of his mind, he realized that Willow had finally returned to reality and was struggling in his arms. Wonderful, he thought hazily. He readjusted their positions, pushing her back until she was pressed hard against the balcony door, trapped under the weight of his body. He braced his hands on either side of her head and held her steady while he continued his assault.  
  
*****  
  
I'm going to die, Willow thought calmly. It all seemed so clear now. All the years she'd spent on the Hellmouth, all the times since Buffy'd arrived when Willow had been miraculously saved from the brink of death, this was why. This was what she'd been saved for. She could feel her life slipping away - no, being ripped away, torn away from her in blood and pain and confusion and pain and pain and pain.  
  
I'm going to be killed for no apparent reason by my best friend's ex-love interest on my own balcony, Willow thought dreamily. I should have known.  
  
In what she muzzily realized was in the best tradition of pre-death moments, Willow found herself consumed with regret. She was never going to get to tell Oz how she felt about him. She was never going to get to tell Xander how she felt about *him*. She was never -  
  
Her mental litany of might-have-beens was abruptly cut off as a remnant of reason pointed out that something was digging into her back. What was it?   
  
The door handle!  
  
Willow's heart leapt. Trying desperately to be surreptitious, she moved her hand slowly away from where it had been crushed against Angelus' shoulder. When he didn't notice that first movement she reached behind her and wriggled her hand into the tiny gap between her back and the door.  
  
Her fingers touched cold metal. Stretching out her fingertips, she pressed against the handle, sickeningly aware that it was much harder to move than it should be. The handle didn't move. She let out a long shuddering breath that turned into a gasp as Angelus did something -bit harder, angled in, went deeper, twisted - that sent a white-hot shock of pain through her.   
  
Willow tried again, this time trying to force the weight of her body against the handle as well. When it turned a tiny bit, she swallowed a spurt of hysterical laughter. It was working, she thought. Yes! Oh, but the dizziness was getting stronger, she thought. It was getting harder to see and harder to feel the metal under her hand.   
  
She put all her strength into her fingertips and pushed.  
  
The handle turned, and several things happened very quickly. The door flew open, propelled by Angelus' weight, and Willow fell inside the invisible boundary.  
  
Sprawled on the floor, Willow looked up at the furiously angry vampire trapped outside the threshold. Demonic ridges still creased Angelus' skin and there was red around his mouth. My blood, she thought. Creepy. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, hugging herself tightly as she tried to convince the rest of her body that it was safe to move. Spots danced before her eyes. But she was fine, she was sure of that. She was definitely fine.   
  
"Willow!" Angelus said, his face like thunder. "Invite me in!"   
  
Lifting her head slightly, Willow managed a weak, "No."  
  
Willow thought that his eyes darkened with anger but it was hard to tell. The world was darkening, like all the light bulbs in the room were dying at once. Angelus had his hands against the barricade and she knew that he couldn't get in but she couldn't seem to stop watching him.   
  
Willow wasn't going to turn her back on him, that was for sure. Or her neck, she thought, and giggled weakly. Not really funny, though.   
  
"Let me in, Willow." Angelus growled. "Or... "   
  
There was a pounding noise somewhere downstairs now and Willow could hear the faint sound of Buffy's voice calling, "Willow? Are you okay? Let me in!"   
  
Willow giggled again. That seemed to be the demand of the hour. She knew she should go down and let Buffy in, but she felt so weak. She'd be all right if she got a chance to sleep, if Buffy and Angelus would just stop *talking* to her.   
  
Angelus made a frustrated sound halfway between a growl and a roar. "I don't know what you've done, Willow.." Angelus said in a low, dangerous tone. "But if you undo it or tell anyone what's happened here, I'll destroy everyone you've ever cared about. I'll torture Xander. I'll kill Buffy. Then I'll torture Xander again." He smiled. "This time just for fun."   
  
The threat penetrated Willow's pain-clouded mind and she managed to focus her eyes again. She opened her mouth to say that she wouldn't tell, just don't hurt Xander, please don't hurt anyone, not because of me, but found the words swallowed up in an uncontrollable yawn.  
  
The sound of splintering wood came from downstairs, loud in the silence, but Angelus never took his eyes off Willow.   
  
"Are you going to be good?" He asked.  
  
Willow managed to nod, her eyes half-closed.  
  
Angelus' smile widened. "Be seeing you. " He said, turning away and disappearing into the shadows. The last thing Willow saw as she slipped into unconsciousness was Buffy's face framed in the doorway, her mouth open in a black O.  
______  
Tell me what you think?  


Of the drawings and the pictures, of course. *g*  
  



	4. Chapter Four

Good Intentions: Reactions 

*****

Author: Ash   
Distribution: Any one who already has some of my fic and anyone else if they ask.   
Disclaimer: To the surprise of everyone, these are still not my characters.  
Rating: Oh, I give up. If it's not PG-13, I'll tell you.  
Author's Note: This part of the story originally contained Spike. And disco. Thankfully, I've managed to remove all traces of that little escapade. Be grateful, people. ;-) 

*****  
Part Four   
*****

Buffy paced the corridors of the hospital outside Willow's room. Willow was in there and the doctors were in there and Buffy _wasn't_ in there and all Buffy wanted to do was start punching things and not stop until she felt better. 

Buffy stopped walking and breathed deeply, forcing herself to calm down. One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths and the urge to destroy was beginning to die down. It wouldn't help Willow if Buffy got thrown out. It wouldn't even make Buffy feel better.

There was only one thing that would do that, Buffy thought, her hands curling into fists at her side. She would feel better when she'd made Angelus hurt. Bleed. Die.

Buffy's mind stumbled. As much as she hated Angelus, she knew that even if he appeared in front of her holding a stake to his chest and handing her a hammer, she still wouldn't be able to kill him. She was weak, she told herself bitterly. Weak to love him, weak to sleep with him, weak to let him live. And her weakness was a poison that was slowly killing everyone around her.

But she'd get stronger, Buffy thought grimly. Her heart was only one voice in a chorus of voices, and the rest of them were screaming for his death. Her Slayer instincts, her human soul, the part of her that ached for every life she'd been too slow to save from him, all were united in a call for blood and vengeance. 

In moments like this one, when a thousand agonizing ways for him to die flickered before Buffy's eyes, when a grim smile touched her lips at the almost heard sound of his screams, one thought blotted out the world around her. 

Soon. 

So far her softer emotions had always won in the end, chipping away at the corners of her rage until it was a blunt and useless thing. But each time it came the anger remained longer, burned hotter, screamed louder. The time was coming. As Buffy looked through the glass window in the door at Willow lying still and motionless, she prayed that it would come soon enough.

"Buffy?" Xander's voice quavered slightly.

Buffy turned around, pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind so that Xander wouldn't see the darkness in her face. She forced a weak smile, which Xander didn't return. He looked frightened, she thought. That was her fault too. 

"She's going to be okay." Buffy said, hoping that it was true.

Xander visibly relaxed. He walked over to stand beside Buffy and looked through the window in the door. She saw him wince when he saw Willow

"Was it" Xander began, but the question trailed off. Better not to say his name. Better still not to need to.

"I don't know. Buffy said. I haven't had the chance to talk to Willow alone yet. But, probably." Her voice was quiet and leaden.

"Where did you find her?" Xander said, his tone carefully non-judgmental. This wasn't the time to start pointing fingers. Willow wouldn't want that. 

"She was in her bedroom. Her balcony doors were open." Buffy said, her mind's eye seeing the scene again in horrible detail. The stuffed animals on the bed, the open doors to the balcony, the blood on Willow's floor and on Buffy's hands. 

Xander paused and she could almost feel him deciding not to say something.

"Why would she invite Angel in?" Xander said finally. Maybe it wasn't him. There was a hopeful note in his voice. 

Buffy could guess what he was thinking. If it wasn't Angelus that had hurt Willow then it was someone else. Someone that Buffy could kill.

"Maybe. Buffy said, wishing that she believed it. If it was... him... she wouldn't have invited him in. Not willingly." Buffy thought of what Angelus might have done to persuade' Willow to let him in and felt sick.

Xander's eyes were focused on the large bandage that covered Willow's neck when he asked, "What did you tell the hospital?"

"Um" Buffy shifted nervously, vaguely embarrassed on behalf of the Sunnydale medical personnel. "I said that we'd been attacked. By a gang."

Xander's eyebrows lifted. "They bought that. He said with disbelief. When her only injuries were two puncture marks and a serious lack of blood? Either there's been a rash of barbecue fork attacks that I haven't heard about, or these people have lived in Sunnydale *way* too long."  
  
Xander's face paled as another possibility occurred to him. "Those were her only injuries, right? He didn't -"

"No!" Buffy cut him off, shaking her head. "That was all." 

Xander let out a breath and almost smiled. Then his face darkened again. "How long does she have to stay in here? It's a public place." 

Buffy's eyes were again fixed on the pale figure in the bed. "They said she could probably leave tomorrow afternoon, she said. She can stay at my house until we get the un-invite spell done again. I'm going to stay here tonight."

"I'm staying too." Xander said firmly. He looked like he was expecting her to argue with him. She really _should_ argue with him, Buffy thought. She was the Slayer and this was her job. She was strong and she could protect Willow. 

She was very tired and she didn't want to be alone. 

I'm glad you're staying. Buffy said, and smiled gratefully at Xander, surprising a smile from him in return. Together, they stood watch over Willow until the sun had forced the darkness into hiding for another day.

***** 

The darkness was not happy.

Angelus paced around the silent mansion, his face thunderous. Anger hung around him like a dark cloud. 

He furiously remembered the bright, sterile corridors of the hospital and the long hours he'd spent there tonight, waiting for them to leave Willow alone. It would only have taken a moment, he thought. And it would all be over by now.

Angelus stopped walking and leaned against the wall, imagining how it could have happened. Buffy and Xander go to get a coffee. One minute later and Angelus is in the room with Willow. Another minute and they're both gone. And then... he let out a shuddering breath and licked his fangs, savouring the memory of how Willow had tasted. 

But no. Buffy had to be there, smelling like everything that was wrong with the world, clearing his head and reminding him to be cautious. Right now, Angelus wasn't sure that caution had been the right choice. Right now, Angelus was thinking that it would have been better to let the fever take him and push him into an orgy of blood and pain.

He grinned to himself at the image of the clean white hospital corridor littered with corpses, Buffy and Xander's torn bodies right on top of the pile.

Of course, he thought, if I kill them then I won't have anything to hold over Willow. I suppose I'll just have to deal with her first. He licked his lips again. It'll be a pleasure.

A faint shuffling noise came from behind him.

Angelus turned quickly, half-expecting to see an angry Buffy or, better yet, a suicidal Xander. Instead, he saw nine of the younger vampires standing there silently, staring at him.

He raised an eyebrow. Can I help you gentlemen?" He said with mock civility, looking each of the men briefly in the eye. One by one they dropped their gaze before him, but didn't speak. 

Angelus said warningly, a snarl in the words. "If you don't tell me why you _dare_ disturb me within the next five sec-"

The eldest of the nine stepped forward, trembling. "I don't know, master. He said, not quite managing to meet Angelus' eyes. We were all down in the basement but we smelled we smelled

Another of the nine finished for him.

The eldest caught Angelus' sudden tension and hastily qualified his statement. "Not that we think that _you're_ prey! He said somewhat desperately. He'd been alive for a hundred years, but now he was stammering like a schoolboy. 

Pathetic, Angelus thought, growling under his breath. This was a complication he hadn't considered. Since he hadn't managed to seize Willow, she was still out there, smelling like the best parts of heaven and hell. Other demons would want her too, want what was _his_. They would try to take her.

These whelps were all the proof he needed of that, Angelus thought grimly. Just the memory of her scent and here they were, bothering him. Under normal circumstances, they would drink holy water rather than risk his anger. 

In some cases, they had.

The idea that another vampire would take Willow before he could was intolerable. That couldn't happen. Re-arranging his features into a pleasant smile, Angelus walked towards the nine younger vampires, who were all watching him nervously.

"Let me make this absolutely clear. Angelus said to them, his voice a dangerous purr. The one whose scent you smell is mine. Mine alone. If you find her, you will bring her to me. If you touch her, you will die." 

With every sentence he stepped closer to the young vampires, watching their expressions carefully. The emotions on their faces flickered between hunger, fear and defiance.

"If you defy me" Angelus said, and moved very quickly. Five busy seconds later, he looked at the younger vampires again and saw only fear. Satisfied that his point had been made, he stepped over the pile of dust and walked out of the room.

The younger vampires that were left behind exchanged relieved glances. 

One said in a quiet voice. I think that puts him in the lead.

Another disagreed quickly. The Slayer killed two of ours last night. She's still ahead.

Drusilla is thinking of putting on a play. Another one said in a miserable tone. 

As one, the vampires shuddered. 

Her last play' killed twenty-one of us and sixty-four humans, The first vampire to have spoken said nostalgically. I was an understudy.

Thirty-four of us, actually. Another said. You have to count the ones she used as scenery.

Oh, yes. I'd forgotten.

That would put her in the lead, if she kills the same amount this time.

They all thought about that for a moment.

Do you think it's like this everywhere? The youngest of them asked finally.

How else could it be?

I don't know. I guess I just thought that immortality would be... longer.

Well, you're still young. You'll learn.

I hope I get the chance. The youngest traced the shape of a smiley face in the pile of dust that was all that remained of the eldest. Does anyone know where we left the dustpan?

A few minutes later, the mansion was once again silent. Waiting for the night, and the hunt, to begin.

----- 

Tell me what you think?  
  
I love Angelus. I really do. However, if I ever met him I would quickly run away in the opposite direction, screaming like a madwoman, and jump on the first bus to Mexico. From Mexico, I would then send him fan mail with no return address on the envelopes.   
  
I'm obsessed, not crazy. ;-)  
  
On another note, thank you to everyone who went off to see my website and drawings. That was sort of the unofficial opening of this incarnation of my website, and I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of people who came. It's funny, but I always assume that the only people who read my fics are the people who comment. Apparently, this is not true. (Shocking, eh? *g*)  
  
So thank you to everyone who comments, you make my days just that much brighter. And thank you to the silent majority, because I'm glad that you're along for the ride.   
  
Ash Easy To Please Jay  
http://xanadu-dreams.com  
*Writings – Drawings - Oddness*


	5. Chapter Five

Good Intentions: Reactions 

*****

Author: Ash 

Distribution: Any one who already has some of my fic and anyone else if they ask. 

Disclaimer: To the surprise of everyone, these are still not my characters.

Rating: Oh, I give up. If it's not PG-13, I'll tell you.

Author's Note: Reviews? Replied to. Ecstatic smile? Firmly in place. *g*

********

Part Five

********

It was a long drive home from the hospital.

"Willow? Mrs. Summers said for the third time. Are you okay back there? 

Yes, Mrs. Summers. Willow said for the third time, trying not to cringe as Mrs. Summers turned away from the steering wheel to look back at her. Traffic fatality statistics kept running through her mind. She was aware that Buffy was looking at her sympathetically. Fine for _her_, Willow thought. She's the Slayer. She can survive a four-car pileup.

Joyce asked, looking back again. Would you like to stop for some coffee?

No, Mrs. Summers. Thank you. Willow said politely. 

Truck, Mrs. Summers, Willow thought. Truck! Ah – oh, okay. Missed it. 

This was Buffy's fault, Willow thought miserably. If she hadn't told her mother about the attack', then Willow could have just slunk happily home on the bus instead of being shanghaied in a family sedan and forcibly whisked off to the Summers' house. 

Mrs. Summers said. Do you like fried chicken?

No, Mrs. Summers. Willow said and thought longingly of her own parents. She could really do with some of that benign neglect right about now. If Mrs. Summers kept up this level of concern, there was no way Willow would be able to figure out what was going on before nightfall. 

Then again, Willow thought as the front fender of an RV loomed large in the front window, maybe Mrs. Summers would just kill them all now and save Angelus the trouble. She had to stifle a smile at the thought of Angelus' face upon learning that both Willow _and_ Buffy had been killed in a traffic accident. It would almost be worth it.

Almost. Mrs. Summers! Willow squeaked. Other side! Other side!

It's a one way street, Willow. Mrs. Summers said. This is the only side there is.

Willow said, subsiding back into her seat. Good. Um carry on.

Are you sure you're all right? Mrs. Summers asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Summers." Willow replied. She was fine. Really. Why wouldn't she be fine? The fear center of her brain took that as its cue: Reason One: Angelus is after you. Reason Two: Angelus is after you. Reason Thre-

Willow clamped a lid on that train of thought. It was a rhetorical question, she told herself. Rhetorical! And you're me, so you had to know that it was rhetorical, so quit it. Angelus is after you, her mind said back, and Willow thought that it sounded amused. 

I hate living on the Hellmouth, Willow thought. Even my mind is against me.

She could feel Buffy watching her. They hadn't really had a chance to talk in the hospital, and Willow could almost feel Buffy vibrating with the need to _know_. 

As Willow's best friend, Buffy had a traditional obligation to provide a shoulder to cry on, a comforting hug and chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. And as the Slayer, Buffy had a sacred duty to march out into the night, wreak bloody vengeance and then bring Willow home the beating heart of her enemy and also more chocolate. 

Under normal circumstances, that would have been exactly what Willow would have wanted. A chance to pour out her fears and receive sugary treats and/or bloody vengeance sounded really good right about now. 

But this time, she'd been sworn to secrecy. Well, threatened to secrecy. Willow bit her lip. Angelus had said that she shouldn't tell anyone what she'd done, or had done to her. That'd be a lot easier if she knew what it was.

A chill ran through Willow when she thought of the second part of Angelus' admonition. Whatever it was that she'd done, he didn't want her to undo it. That couldn't be good. Willow strongly suspected that anything a vampire wanted to keep, particularly something that led to biting, was something she should be actively trying to get rid of.

Willow pushed the speculations to the back of her mind. There would be time enough to deal with it when she had any idea what well, what it was! Had to be something to do with the spell. 

And until I figure out what I'm not supposed to say, Willow thought, it might be better to avoid all forms of the truth. 'Cause if part of the truth is what I'm not supposed to say, than not saying any of it will keep anyone from getting killed! 

The memory of a whisper tingled up and down her nerves and she shivered. "Be seeing you." He'd said. And laughed.

Okay, so this strategy isn't perfect, Willow conceded to herself. But nobody will die...except possibly me. I'm okay with that. I think. Better me than other people. Though a complete lack of death would be optimal. 

From her seat beside Willow, Buffy had been observing the lip biting, sighing, shivering and gulping with increasing concern. She had enough experience in this area to recognize all the symptoms of "Willow In Turmoil". Granted, Buffy thought, nearly dying was enough to upset anyone. But this seemed different. 

Different from the twenty other times she's almost died, Buffy thought scornfully. Will you listen to yourself? This is _Willow_! And you're analyzing her reactions like she's the Hellmouth's Scaly Creature Du Jour! 

Buffy patted Willow's arm gently to attract her attention. She leaned it until she was out-of-parental-hearing range and whispered, "Everything will be fine. I won't let you out of my sight. Plus, we have chocolate!" 

Willow offered her a sickly smile and said, "Oh. Good!"

Satisfied, Buffy sat back and waited for the ride to end.

Willow felt nauseous. How was she supposed to figure out what's going on if they never left her alone? 

What am I going to do, she thought. I need to research that spell but chocolate. Yum. But not worth death! Let's have a little focus here! Right. I have to think of a lie that gets me out of there, doesn't make Buffy worry about me, and sounds plausible. 

*****

"It wasn't Angel?" Buffy said, looked both confused and relieved. 

"Nope. Not Angel. Willow said, shaking her head. Nothing like him at all. This vampire was, uh short! And I think he was balding. " Too much, she thought. Keep it simple. 

"So, let me see if I've got this straight. Buffy said. You ran into a vamp on the way home" She paused, and gave Willow an odd look. "A short, balding vamp. You staked him with a tree branch, but not before he'd managed to drain a lot of blood. You somehow made it home and got inside"

Buffy broke off and fished around her pockets. "Oh, that reminds me, she said. When I went to pick up a change of clothes for you, I found your keys in the bushes. " 

Uh oh, Willow thought.

"Yeah Willow said slowly. I must have dropped them. I, uh _Think fast!_ _Faster than that! _I climbed in through the balcony! Yeah. Weird, huh?" Good, she congratulated herself. Sounding casual, very good. 

"Just a tad. How could you do that while you were so low on blood?" Buffy asked. She sounded curious, but it was probably just Willow's imagination that laced her tone with a hint of suspicion. Probably.

Flying monkeys? Demonic influence? No, that wouldn't help things much, Willow thought. Frantically she ran through the things that could have gotten her up to the balcony before dismissing them all as too contrived. 

Willow gave Buffy her most innocent it-certainly-wasn't-me-who-hacked-into-the-computer smile and shrugged. "Just one of those weird things, I guess. "

Buffy looked at her for a moment longer and then relaxed and said, "I guess. " Cheering up now that she was no longer directly responsible for Willow's injury, she grabbed the bag of Oreos and settled down on the bed next to Willow. "So, she said. Which video do you want to watch first?"

"Ooh! Princess Bride!" Willow said, bouncing slightly out of relief. She reached in the bag for a cookie, telling herself that tomorrow would be soon enough to go home and face Angelus. Tonight, there were cookies. 

Outside the window, a figure detached itself from the shadows in the tree and leaped to the ground. Angelus walked away from the house with his hands in the pocket of his coat and something that was not a smile curving his lips upwards. 

*******

The next morning, Willow closed the front door of her house behind her with a deep sigh. It had taken quite a bit of persuasion to convince Buffy that she would be all right at home by herself. Not that that was exactly what Willow wanted night would be coming soon, and then-

Willow stopped that train of thought before it drove her right back to Buffy's house. And chocolate. And silly movies, and No. It wouldn't be a good idea to trade one night of fun for having to spend the rest of her life dead. 

She frowned. Having to spend the rest of her life dead? There was something wrong with that thought maybe she had a concussion. Maybe she should go back to the hospital and get checked out. They had chocolate _there_, too.

One trip to the store and three Kit Kat bars later, Willow settled down to do research. It took seven hours of searching the web, the books and anywhere else she could find but she finally found it. The flaw. The problem. The thing that was going to kill her. 

She found it in a small book of annotations that had been created by a modern alchemist/witch who had strongly believed that the flowery language that most spells were written in was useless at best and dangerous at worst. As she'd put it, There's a reason why explosives manuals don't use metaphors. Calling a demon is tricky enough, calling one while also trying to translate the instructions into haiku form is just asking for trouble.

In an attempt to make old spell books clearer, this witch had translated them into chemical language, citing reagents, procedure, primary effect, secondary effects 

Willow sat and stared blankly at the page dealing with the Lure of the Shadows spell.

Oh. She thought. This is so not what I wanted to find out. 

She'd been hoping to see the word, "protected" or maybe even, "temporary". 

Darn it, Willow thought bitterly. I knew I should have taken the time to translate the Latin. But no I wanted to get my Geography homework done. That's just peachy! 

Not for the first time, Willow wished that she could swear. A few well-chosen adjectives would have gone a long way towards making her a happier person.

She slumped back against the headboard of her bed and read the page again.

"This spell is very rarely used, for obvious reasons."

Hah, she thought. Weren't so obvious to me, now were they? 

"In my opinion, it should not be used at all. It is unconscionable to sacrifice an innocent life, even to gain complete control over a demon. (See footnote 7)" 

What? What was that?

Flipping frantically to the back of the book, Willow searched through the numerous footnotes. She found the one she was looking for in a small section titled "Historical Usage". Quickly, she read it. And then she read it again. And again. 

A small smile lifted the corners of Willow's mouth. It wasn't all she had hoped for but yay! She might not have to die!

Sobering quickly, Willow glanced out the window at the gathering dusk. Now, she thought, if only Angelus will let me live long enough to explain that to him. 

_______

Tell me what you think?

This is completely something that I would do, you know. I remember this one time when I was making explosives for a school project and it came down to a choice between A) wearing safety equipment or B) going to the vending machine and getting chips. Needless to say, I have the distinction of having made the first batch of sour cream & onion gunpowder ever. *g*


	6. Chapter Six

Title: Good Intentions: Reactions   
  
Author: Ash   
  
Distribution: Any one who already has some of my fic and anyone else if they ask.   
  
Disclaimer: Yep, Buffy is still Joss Whedon's. Keep them, Joss! I mean, yes, you're a genius, but that genius had created some of the most downright frightening things ever. The Gentlemen? Kept me up nights, I kid you not.  
  
Rating: Oh, I give up. If it's not PG-13, I'll tell you.  
  
*****  
  
Part Six  
  
*****  
  
The sun set, and night fell on Sunnydale.   
  
People walk faster at night, avoiding dark alleys and the eyes of strangers. And death comes streaming out of the graves to find them, hunting them across the plains and valleys of the night. It wants to kill them, hurt them or own them, but above all, it _wants_. Death is desire.  
  
And Willow is gone, Angelus thought as he looked through the window of Buffy's room.   
  
Inside the house, Buffy was preparing for patrol. Her weapons were spread across the cheerfully flowered comforter of her bed and she was inspecting them one by one. Angelus watched as Buffy frowned at a faulty crossbow. Willow's scent was just a fading memory in the room; Buffy's a tangibly revolting presence.   
  
Angelus scowled. If Willow thought that she could hide from him, he'd-   
  
There was a knock on Buffy's door. With one practiced motion, Buffy grabbed the weapons, dropped them into a bag and kicked the bag under the bed.   
  
"Yes, mom?" Buffy said, turning to face the mirror above her dresser. She tilted her head as if appraising her makeup. Maybe she was, Angelus thought with amusement.   
  
Mrs. Summers opened the door and leaned against the frame. "Are you going to meet Willow at the Bronze tonight?" she asked. "She forgot her hairbrush."   
  
A worried expression flitted over Buffy's face and she said, "No, she said she was just going to go to bed. I'll give it to her tomorrow, I'm going to walk her to school if she still insists on going."   
  
Mrs. Summers shook her head. "She should stay home for a couple of days."   
  
"That's what _I_ said!" Buffy agreed. "Any excuse to get out of school, right?" She looked at her mother and paused. "I mean, school is important. The children are our future. Did I mention that I'm thinking of applying to Yale? Yeah. I'll... be leaving now."   
  
"Is that what you're going to _wea_-" Joyce started to say, but Angelus heard no more of it.   
  
He walked down the street with what, in anyone who wasn't a sadistic emissary of hell, might have been termed 'a bounce in his step.' Willow had gone home. Poor little Willow, all alone, waiting for someone to come and keep her company.   
  
Angelus smiled to himself and quickened his pace.  
  
It was a short walk to Willow's house. Looking up at the house, Angelus thought about just ringing the doorbell. Briefly.   
  
Minutes later he was on her balcony. There were dark stains on the wood and Angelus found himself staring at them, mesmerized. Her blood.   
  
He took a deep breath of unnecessary air and felt heat rush through him. Willow's essence hung in the air, sweet as the far-off sound of screams. She was here.   
  
Mine, he thought.   
  
He moved to the balcony doors, his eyes searching the room inside for any sign of her, but the room was empty except for the books that covered every surface. He growled softly. Where was she?   
  
The hallway door swung open, and Willow walked in.   
  
Angelus absorbed her presence like a physical shock, his entire body tensing.   
  
Willow was rubbing the back of her neck absentmindedly as if tired. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she let out a long breath and picked up one of the books.   
  
Angelus watched her, his hands tightening into claws.   
  
******  
  
Willow shot an apprehensive glance at the darkness outside her window. He should be here by now, she thought. She looked away from the black window and sighed. Then she looked back. The darkness outside seemed less dark in some places and more dark in other places.   
  
In fact, she thought, it almost looks like a oh!   
  
Willow's eyes locked with Angelus' and she froze in place.  
  
I should have hid in the basement, Willow decided, feeling something cold and scared settle in her stomach like a rock.   
  
I could have talked to him tomorrow night. Or after my neck heals.   
  
Without thinking about it, Willow's hand went to her neck and touched the bandage there.  
  
Angelus' eyes followed her gesture, darkening as they focused on her neck. Willow snatched her hand away. Eep! No, no, no! She thought. The point is to distract him from the blood!   
  
It took all Willow's willpower not to run out of the room, screaming or not. Instead, she rose shakily to her feet and walked over to the balcony doors. Angelus watched her come, a cold smile spreading across his face.   
  
Willow twisted the handle of the door until the lock clicked and then jumped back quickly.   
  
The door swung open onto the night, leaving only the frail protection of the threshold between her and Angelus. To Willow, it seemed like no protection at all.   
  
Disturbingly, Angelus was now leaning against the nothing where the door used to be. He lifted his hand from his pocket and waved. The look in his eyes frightened her.   
  
"Invite me in, Willow." Angelus said.   
  
How am I going to tell him, Willow wondered. It has to be gradual. I need to give him a sense of the events so that he'll understand what's going on here. Then I can hit him with the big guns! Well, gun, anyway. Although guns wouldn't hurt him, and anyway I'd miss! I can't even hit people with water guns and I'm stalling.   
  
Willow opened her mouth to begin her well thought out explanation. Unfortunately, Angelus chose that moment to lick his lips. The possibly threatening movement led to the temporary shutdown of Willow's higher reasoning centers.   
  
"You can't kill me!" Willow said in a squeaky voice.  
  
*****  
  
Angelus stared at Willow, feeling vaguely disappointed in her. She'd been doing so well so far that he hadn't expected her to do anything as pathetic as beg for her life. Still, at least she didn't start crying. That was something.   
  
She was still watching him with an expectant look.   
  
"What?" Angelus said, laughter in his voice. "That's it? You tell me that I can't and I'm supposed to run away like a good little boy?"   
  
"No, but I'm-" Willow started to speak again, but he cut her off.   
  
"I hate to break it to you, lovely, but none of the people I've killed have gone willingly. If I waited for an invitation, well..." He opened his eyes wide, mocking her. "I'd never get to kill anyone at all!"   
  
"Yes, but-" Willow said.   
  
"And speaking of invitations..." Angelus said, and the humor fell away from his voice. He ran his hands slowly down the boundary, his eyes locked on Willow's. "Let me in, Willow."  
  
The need burning in his eyes forced Willow back a few steps. He could see the fear growing in her eyes, hear her heartbeat like a call to arms.   
  
Watching Angelus nervously, Willow picked up one of the books. She held against her chest like a shield.   
  
"I have something to tell you." Willow said, her voice tremulous. She was avoiding his eyes and terror was coming off her in waves.   
  
Delicious, Angelus thought. Deciding to humor her, he motioned for her to proceed.   
  
"See, what's going on here, is that my... blood, " Willow said, stumbling over the word. "It's calling to you, right? And that's because I did this spell, that was supposed to make Buffy repulsive to you, and it did, but it also made me, um, not repulsive, and that's what the unexpected part was."   
  
Willow paused for breath, glancing quickly up at Angelus and then away   
  
How cute, he thought. She thinks I care.   
  
Holding the book up and gesturing with it, Willow finished in one long rush of words. "Now if I undo it," she said. "Everything will go back to how it used to be and you can terrorize Buffy and I'll stop trying to stop you, well, using witchcraft anyway, I mean it's not like I'd stop altogether, 'cause she's my friend and you're not, you were, but now you're not, so..." With an effort, she stopped and calmed herself.  
  
"So. Can I undo it?" Willow said, her eyes meeting his at last.   
  
Angelus paused, drinking in the hope in her eyes. The hope was his favorite part. Any idiot could kill someone. But to make them believe, really believe that they were going to live, that despite all the odds and the blood and the pain, they were going to have a tomorrow - that was an art. His art.  
  
"No." Angelus said finally, and smiled at her. "Buffy was boring me. I'll get some of my minions to take care of her. " His smile widened. "I've always loved that. I have _minions_."  
  
Willow's shoulders slumped, and her eyes dropped to her hands. Keep looking at me, Angelus thought. Don't you dare look away.   
  
"Fine," Willow said, looking up "I guess I have to tell you the rest of it."   
  
She'd been trying to keep something from him, Angelus thought. Not smart. Oh, but it would be such a good excuse later.   
  
Willow sat down on the edge of the bed.   
  
"Since I'm not that good at Latin, and this part was in the fine print," she said. "I just found out recently what the true purpose of the spell was. It was intended to give the caster control over some demon. The spell draws the demon to um, the sacrifice. " She smiled sheepishly at him. "Since I reversed it, that would be me."   
  
Opening the book to the appendix, she read aloud: "When the demon drains the sacrifice, the circle is completed. The death of the victim takes the control from the demon and passes it to the caster, as it is by their will that it came to pass."   
  
And apparently, Willow thought, it doesn't matter that I didn't go into this saying: Gee, wouldn't it be nifty if I could die?   
  
" The short version of the whole thing," Willow said. "And the other unexpected bit, is that if you kill me, you get put under Buffy's control." She looked up. Angelus was showing his demon face. She hastily qualified her statement.   
  
"You won't get your soul back!" She said. "You'll just have to do whatever Buffy says." Oh boy, she thought, that didn't help.   
  
"The Lure of the Shadows..." Angelus hissed the words like a curse.   
  
"You've heard of it?" Willow said, startled.   
  
Angelus nodded grimly. "Every vampire has. During the 18th century, everyone had to be very careful about who we killed." He shrugged. "Luckily, it went out of style as the whole ethics thing gained popularity. And of course, we tracked down every copy of the spell we could find and burnt them."   
  
"So..." Willow tried again. "Bearing that in mind, can I undo it? I could even without your permission, but can I without worrying about retribution of the bloody or fatal kind?"   
  
Angelus turned away from her and walked to the edge of the balcony, looking out into the night. After a few moments of breath holding on Willow's part, he turned back and leaned against the rail, a black shadow among shadows, looking too good to live.   
  
Which, Willow thought, was factually accurate.   
  
Why didn't he _say_ something?  
  
Finally, Angelus met her eyes. "You can undo it," he said. "I certainly don't want to be the Slayer's plaything again."   
  
Yes! Willow thought. YES!  
  
"But," Angelus went on. "I want to check over the spell before you do the reversal. I'd prefer that no mistakes are made this time." He held out his hand expectantly, his eyes on the book she was holding.   
  
Sensible of him, Willow thought giddily. Reasonable, too. What a nice vampire he was. And no more mistakes, which would also be good.   
  
Trembling with relief, Willow jumped off the bed and walked over to the door, holding the book out to him. The book passed through the barrier, as did half of her hand.   
  
It was enough.  
  
--------  
  
Tell me what you think?  
  
Ah, fun. Angelus, you sneaky, sneaky man. *g* This fic is such a change from my other ones. Sure, in most of my fics someone is terrorizing someone else. But usually they're at least a little bit *fond* of the person in question. Notes on their pillow, dead loved ones wrapped up with a bow you know, the usual hopelessly romantic gestures. 

Ash


	7. Chapter Seven

Title: Good Intentions: Reactions   
Author: Ash   
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com  
Distribution: Anyone who already has some of my fic and anyone else if they ask.   
Disclaimer: Yep, Buffy is still Joss Whedon's. Keep them, Joss! I mean, yes, you're a genius, but that genius has created some of the most downright frightening things ever. The Gentlemen? Kept me up nights, I kid you not.  
Rating: Oh, I give up. If it's not PG-13, I'll tell you. 

*****  
Part Seven  
*****  
  
Willow's hand passed through the barrier. And the world spun away.  
  
The sensation of wind against her face and a sudden pain in her hand and then the world had stopped spinning and Willow found herself outside on the balcony. That, by itself, would have been a bad thing by definition. But she couldn't see anything and she had a horrible feeling that the blackness blotting out the outside world wasn't a sudden fog or an unscheduled eclipse, but the front of Angelus' shirt.  
  
Maybe I've gone blind, Willow thought hopefully. Her eyes refocused and she noticed shiny black dots in the larger darkness and frowned. Except that blindness didn't come with buttons.  
  
She kept her eyes down; she couldn't stand the thought of looking up and meeting those dark eyes in that pale face. She thought there would be triumph there, and if there was, she thought she might kick him in the shins. In the interests of surviving to see sunrise, she stared at his shirt and attempted to evaluate the situation. She was outside. That was bad.   
  
Willow wiggled tentatively, but the motion was instantly stilled as the arms around her tightened to force her close against him, eliminating the gap between their bodies. Okay, now she couldn't move. _Very_ bad.   
  
Despite the fact that her face was now pressed to Angelus' chest and despite the fact that breathing was becoming difficult, Willow refused to look up on principle. What had gone wrong? She wondered despairingly. He'd been being so nice and reasonable and – oh. That should have tipped her off.   
  
One of his hands was moving now; Willow could feel it sliding up from the middle of her back, leaving a trail of electricity wherever it touched.   
  
"Willow." Angelus said softly.   
  
Nu-uh, Willow thought. There's no one by that name here. Come back later. Actually, don't!  
  
She shivered as his caressing hand gently brushed the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. And then it was tangled in her hair and nowhere near gentle as Angelus forced her head up, pulling harder than necessary when she attempted to resist. Ow, thought Willow. Ow, ow, ow.   
  
Her head was up but her eyes were still cast down. She heard the sound of a sigh and felt his cold breath ruffle her hair, although it might have been the wind. She hoped it was the wind.   
  
Angelus gave a final vicious yank to her hair and her eyes shot up to meet his.  
  
Willow said accusingly, glaring at him.  
  
He smiled, a slow curling of his lips that made her wish she hadn't looked up. It was good that he wasn't in Grr mode, she thought. But bad that he was smiling. She was beginning to really hate his smiles. They always made her think that he knew something she didn't, something she didn't really _want_ to know but he was going to tell her anyway. It made her stomach twist.  
  
Willow said after a long pause, her voice trembling. It didn't make sense. Really, why? You don't want to belong to Bu-"  
  
Angelus' smile disappeared and the hand tangled through Willow's hair clenched, drawing an involuntary yelp of pain from her.   
  
"I have no intention of _belonging_ to the Slayer." Angelus said, spitting out the words like a curse.   
  
"But what about the spell?" Willow said, staring at him with confusion. His hand twisted again and she gasped sharply and knew that her eyes were filling up with tears and it was humiliating and pointless but it _hurt_.  
  
It might have been just a coincidence but when the lines in Angelus' face smoothed out and his horrible lovely smile came back Willow had the feeling that it had nothing to do with what she'd said and everything to do with the tears in her eyes and the pain in her voice. I hate you, she thought.  
  
"Willow, all that spell does is stop me from killing you." Angelus said. He dangled the book between them like a toy held in front of a cat, waving it slowly back and forth and watching as Willow's eyes followed it.   
  
I'm not going to die, Willow thought. That's good. That's about as good as it gets at this point really, and better than I'd expected. Um Why is he laughing?  
  
And then in another of those quick movements that made Willow's head spin, Angelus had flipped them around so that she was pressed tightly between him and the railing. He wants his hands free, Willow thought. Is he going to strangle me? Is that not technically killing me? Is there a strangling loophole?   
  
If she survived this, she was buying a Latin language reader.  
  
So I can't kill you, Angelus said then in a tone dark with laughter. "I can live with that." He ripped the spell book into two even pieces.   
  
Willow screamed.  
  
*****  
  
Angelus kept his eyes fixed on Willow's face, ignoring the frantic beating of her hands against his chest, as he methodically tore the book into coin size fragments. He thought that he could actually see her hope shatter into tiny jagged pieces that ripped her apart from the inside out. The pain in her eyes was beautiful.  
  
And finally, when the book was just a handful of torn paper in his hands and he knew that she'd never be able to put it back together again, Angelus opened his hands gracefully and let the scraps of paper drift down around them.  
  
Most of the scraps were immediately whisked away by the breeze and disappeared into the night, winking out like dying stars as they left the circle of light. Some stayed, dancing around them and settling in Willow's hair and on her pale tight face, which was staring out after the vanished pieces as if she could call them back through sheer willw.   
  
The scraps in Willow's hair were incongruously white against the dark red and Angelus was suddenly struck by the thought that her hair was the color of blood. Not fresh blood, no. Like the blood on healing wounds, he thought, begging to be reopened.  
  
And then he could feel the hunger, already inflamed by being so near to her, stir inside of him like a wild animal at the thought of blood. Her blood, he thought, and shivered.  
  
Angelus fought for control, pushing down the urge to drain her dry and to hell with the consequences and to hell with the Slayer. He was playing for high stakes now, gambling on his own self-control. Which was ironic, he thought dryly, since he'd spent a good two hundred years working on demolishing his self-control through a rigorous regimen of sex, death and all of the above, take as many as you want and call the funeral home in the morning.   
  
But if he lost Angelus thought about living under the mastery of the Slayer. Her first order would probably be for him to stake himself, if he was lucky. If he was unlucky and the twit was smarter than he thought she was, it could be something more along the lines of: 'Act like Angel for the rest of your un-life.'  
  
Angelus shuddered and the repulsive thought forced his hunger back just enough to let him look at Willow again.  
  
He was pleased to see that there were tears on her face. She was still gazing at the scattered pieces in shock, her face as empty as a wax mask. She looks cute when she cries, Angelus thought almost fondly. If only it meant something to me.   
  
Angelus wrapped his arms around her again and leaned in, moving closer until they were eye to eye. When she still seemed oblivious, he gave in to temptation and slowly licked a tear from her cheek. It tasted tangy and hurt and _wonderful_, a pale salty echo of the taste of her blood. He thought that he must have groaned because Willow was looking at him now, fear in her eyes.   
  
Willow's mouth moved as if she was attempting to form words, but nothing came out.   
  
Entertained by her efforts, Angelus watched her for a few moments before regretfully deciding that, as diverting as is would be to see how long it would take for her to manage coherent speech, they needed to get a few things straight.  
  
Angelus covered Willow's mouth with his hand to stop her futile attempts to form words and his self-control was almost undone by the feel of her breath on his palm.   
  
"I imagine you'd like to know what happens next?" Angelus asked.  
  
Willow nodded jerkily, almost dislodging his hand.  
  
"Well..." Angelus said, letting the word trail off, a smile spreading across his face.   
  
"I've never been in this situation either. He said finally. I suppose that I'll just have to make up the rules as we go along."   
  
There was a quick flash of anger in Willow's eyes and he knew that she hadn't missed either the paraphrasing or its meaning. Good. She should understand that he was in control here.   
  
"All you have to remember for the moment is that it's not up to you, he said to drive the point home. Don't fight me, defy me or seek help against me..."  
  
Willow shook her head, trying to get away from his hand. Removing his impromptu gag, Angelus looked at her with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Remembered how to speak, have you?" He said.  
  
Ignoring his sardonic comment, Willow asked, "And if I don't follow your rules, then what? You'll kill me? Or have me killed by someone else? Because I have to tell you, that's not really looking like the worst of my options here!"  
  
"Oh no, Angelus said with a sudden deadly softness. I'll kill your parents, your friends and your pets..." He moved his hand to her throat, clasping it just above the hollow where her unsteady pulse was beating strong and fast. "But not you, Willow. Never you. You, I'll discipline in ways that will make you beg to die. "   
  
There was terror in her eyes and he felt her heartbeat leap under his hand and _now_, it had to be now, he couldn't wait.  
  
And then his face was shifting back to its true form and Willow was opening her mouth to scream and he put one hand over her mouth and roughly pulled her head aside to bare her neck. And then she might have been screaming or fainting or cursing him, he didn't know or care because he was drinking from her again and it was like coming home.   
  
He'd thought that he remembered it, the taste of it, the feel of it glowing inside him like a sun, but his memories had been watercolor impressions compared to the real thing and now the real thing was hot and thick and perfect in his mouth and Willow was struggling in his arms and that was perfect too and if he wasn't careful he would take too much.  
  
But then, all too soon, Angelus felt Willow stop struggling and he forced himself to pull away. He looked down at her and she looked dazed and dreamy, but at least she was still managing to stay upright. She'd be fine, he thought. A night's sleep and she'll be good as new. He licked his lips. Better than new, even.  
  
When Angelus let go, Willow's knees buckled. He caught her just before she hit the ground, swinging her up into his arms. She was as light as a feather and again he thought that maybe he'd taken too much. But no, her eyelashes were fluttering on her cheeks. She was awake.  
  
He carried her over to the open door and whispered, "Say: Come in, Angelus.'"   
  
Willow made a soft noise in her throat and turned her head away, burying her face in his chest.  
  
Angelus said a little more firmly. "What choice do you have?"  
  
Willow said cogently into his shirt, and then sighed and said dreamily, Come. In. Angelus."  
  
"Close enough." Angelus said, smiling at the top of her head. He walked inside the room and carried Willow over to the bed, setting her down gently lest she wake and start screaming again. He put blankets on top of her, sitting down on the edge of her bed and watching as she burrowed sleepily into the covers.  
  
"When you wake up tomorrow, remember that your blood belongs to me. He said in a low, menacing tone. And so do you, Willow. Don't forget.   
  
I hope she can still hear me, he thought, looking at her peaceful face. I hate to waste a good implied threat.   
  
Willow's brow suddenly furrowed into worried lines and she rolled onto her other side, turning her back to him.   
  
She heard me, Angelus thought, trying not to laugh.   
  
He went out by the front door and left Willow to the safety of her dreams.  
  
______  
End Part Seven  
Tell me what you think?   
  
I love this fic, you know that? Between this fic, where nobody is really happy except for Angelus, and my uber-humor Labyrinth fic, where *nobody* is happy - not Jareth, not Sarah and not the Immutable Forces of Destiny, I really feel like I've struck some kind of balance. I have humor, angst, death, pretty villains, blood and predatory bathroom appliances. Really, who could ask for more?  
  
Replies to comments on the last chapter tomorrow, when I'm awake. (Well, I could reply to them now. But Id' pretty much be just banging my head up and down on the keyboard and hoping for the best. ;-)


	8. Chapter Eight

**Good Intentions: Ground Rules**  
Author: Ash   
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com  
Distribution: Anyone who already has some of my fic and anyone else if they ask.   
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to Buffy and don't really want to. I know my limits. I'll stick to fiction, where I can do horrible things to the characters without fear of reprisal.   
Feedback: Makes me smile.  
Rating: Oh, I give up. If it's not PG-13, I'll tell you, promise.   
  
Dedication: To Gabrielle, who's being very nice about the delayed preview. *g* And to my beta, Claire. (Where are you, Claire? Come back!)  
  
** Chapter Eight **

The shrill buzzing of her alarm was beginning to irritate Willow. It just kept buzzing and buzzing no matter how many times she growled at it or swung an arm vaguely in its direction. Buzz, buzz, buzz.  
  
I don't want to get up, Willow thought dreamily. Bed was warm and cozy and soft. Outside was nasty and icky and vampires and... _Angelus_!   
  
Willow's eyes flew open.  
  
Hesitantly, Willow raised her head to look and yes, sure enough, the balcony doors were open and there was a pain in her neck that was in no way metaphorical. It hadn't been a dream, she thought, which was disappointing but not really surprising since her dreams tended to have fluffy things and tests that she hadn't studied for but were generally light on the blood sucking.  
  
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. And sat down again rather more quickly. Oh, she thought dizzily. This feels almost as bad as last time.   
  
Managing to walk to the bathroom on her third try, Willow ran some cold water in the sink and splashed her face with it in an attempt to clear her head. She looked in the mirror and winced. In the harsh morning sunlight, the new set of marks on her neck stood out like a tattoo. Or graffiti, she thought: Angelus was here.   
  
She turned away from the mirror and carefully picked her way back through her room until she could collapse into her computer chair. Turning the computer on by reflex, she put her elbows down on the desk and stared blankly at the empty screen.   
  
What was she supposed to do _now_? There had only been two possible scenarios for what might happen when she told Angelus about the spell:  
  
First, he could have let her do the spell and they could both have gone on their merry way, her smiling and laughing and him torturing and killing, and everything would have been back to normal.   
  
Second, he could have killed her (quickly or not) and then she'd be dead and he'd belong to Buffy for the rest of eternity or until he killed himself, whichever came first.   
  
Either way, Willow thought bitterly, not a whole lot more action required on my part. This was so not in the plan!  
  
"Willow?" Buffy said from behind her.   
  
Willow felt every muscle in her body jump. Why had she given Buffy that set of keys? The girl could move like a _cat_.  
  
"Hi, Buffy," Willow said perkily, and was about to swivel to face her friend but - (urk! The bite!)- so instead she gave Buffy a sideways smile through her hair and looked back at her computer, pretending to check her e-mail.  
  
"How are you feeling? Were you okay by yourself last night?" asked Buffy.  
  
Oh yes, Willow thought, all except for that bit where the love of your life came by and bit me and basically said that it wasn't the last time... Other than that, fine. And you?  
  
"Yep. It was fun," Willow said. "Just me, by myself. Doing all that stuff that I do when I'm alone."   
  
Buffy gave her a concerned look and said, "Are you _sure_ that you're all right?" She took hold of the back of the chair and turned it around until Willow was facing her in what Willow couldn't help but feel was a gross abuse of Slayer strength.  
  
Willow smiled at her. Look at my teeth, she thought, not at my neck. Look, teeth! Shiny!  
  
Buffy put a hand on Willow's forehead and said, "You feel a little clammy. Did you take your pills?"  
  
Willow pounced on the excuse and said, "I knew I forgot something! I'll go take them right now." She pushed past Buffy quickly and headed for the bathroom, her neck bent at an impossible angle.  
  
Willow closed the bathroom door firmly behind her. Looking in the mirror, she grimaced. Buffy probably thought that she'd gone insane, which wasn't really that far from the truth.  
  
It took some fumbling around in her minimal supply of cosmetics, but Willow finally came up with an almost empty tube of concealer. She touched the bite experimentally and smothered a whimper. It was like there was a thin bright wire running straight between the bite and the pain center of her brain, she thought, like touching fire. Fascinating. And also, _ow!_  
  
Despite the pain, Willow managed to cover up both bites by poking concealer in their general direction and biting her lip a lot. Finally done, she looked at herself critically in the mirror. Great, she thought, now it looks like I've had silly putty surgically attached to my neck. Good enough. She ran the water for a few seconds to create the impression of pill taking before she went back to her room and sat down on the bed beside Buffy.  
  
"So..." said Willow, staring at her hands. There was an awkward silence during which Willow realized that she couldn't think of anything to say other than what she wasn't allowed to say.   
  
Stupid Angelus, she thought bitterly. It wasn't like she didn't have enough problems with social interactions _already_. This was just all kinds of bad.  
  
"Do you think you're up for school today?" asked Buffy.  
  
School? Willow thought. Library!   
  
"I think so," she said slowly, "but I might have to come home at lunch."  
  
Buffy said, "Well, I'm glad you're getting back to the peppy Willow we all know and love. If you've still got some of that pep left tonight, we're all meeting up at the Bronze." She looked slyly at Willow and added, "Oz is going to show."  
  
Willow attempted to look girlishly embarrassed. Oz... she thought miserably. I can't put him in danger. I'll have to break it off. Wait. I'm assuming that there's nothing I can do about this. That's not a good thing! I don't want Angelus breathing down my ne- bad analogy. Bad, bad analogy.  
  
She became aware that Buffy was still speaking.  
  
"...you thinking about?"  
  
Blinking, Willow refocused on her friend. "Nothing."  
  
A conspiratorial smile spread across Buffy's face. "Oh, you're so in trouble. If just mentioning Oz's name makes you dreamy it may be time for you to start thinking about china patterns." She paused and looked pensive. "Do they make china with guitars on it?"  
  
"I wasn't thinking about Oz," Willow protested. Well, she thought, only about how to keep him alive. And me, too!   
  
"Don't even try the innocent act with me, Wills," Buffy said, laughing. "I've been there, remember? When you're staring off into the distance like that? Definitely a guy thing."  
  
Willow nearly choked. Oh yeah, she thought. It's a guy thing. An _evil_ guy thing.  
  
Buffy glanced at her watch and hastily jumped to her feet. "Uh oh," she said, "if we're going, we'd better go now. Throw some clothes on and we'll head off. Though why you'd _want_ to go to school..."  
  
Dressing hurriedly, Willow listened with half an ear to Buffy's ongoing monologue about her "...wasting a legitimate excuse to take a couple days off, and..."  
  
They got to school with minutes to spare, although Willow wasn't quite sure how. All she remembered of the walk was a blur of light and colors and the feeling of wind against her face and a hand clamped inexorably around her wrist, dragging her forward.   
  
Willow mentally resolved to leave earlier next time. It was either that or buy herself a little red wagon that Buffy could pull along behind her. She thought that Buffy might enjoy that, actually.  
  
Classes dragged with mind deadening slowness, as Willow found that her natural enthusiasm for learning was being severely tarnished by knowing that she might be spending the rest of her life, however short, as a vampire's chew toy. It wasn't helping that she had to keep it a secret.   
  
She'd told Xander about being afraid of frogs and English teachers, she'd told Buffy about being afraid of Xander-obliviousness and boys in general. And now, she was probably going to die, which was very much scarier than any of those things and she couldn't tell _anyone_.  
  
She had to practically bite through her tongue to keep from crying when Xander smiled at her. And when Oz came up to her at lunch... oh, it felt like her heart was breaking. She tried to act distant, but all she could think about was that she might never see him again.  
  
Searching the library at lunch produced nothing useful either. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, except maybe a spell marked, "Make Vampires Stay Away From You and All of Your Friends Forever." If there was really a spell like that, Willow thought sadly, the Watchers would have already used it. On everybody.   
  
Pleading sickness, Willow went home at lunch, desperate to get away from her friends and their shiny happy smiles and even more desperate to get away from Oz and the light in his eyes when he looked at her.   
  
It felt strange to be alone in her room. Even with the sun shining she thought that she could still feel him there. He was in the shadows, she thought, or in the closet. Somewhere. It was an awful feeling.  
  
It took her two hours and five silent arguments with herself before she finally decided to invoke the un-invite spellagain. There was no point making it too easy for him. Except that maybe if she made it easy he wouldn't get angry and kill her. That was a point.  
  
Willow's lips compressed into a thin line. She couldn't just let him come in there and bite her without at least some kind of protest, that would be just one slippery step away from greeting him with a bare neck, handing him a straw and asking him how his day went.  
  
Nu-uh, Willow thought. Not in this lifetime.   
  
Once the barrier was back in place Willow felt slightly better, and was able to research without looking under the bed every ten minutes or so, although she still kept her feet tucked safely up under her to avoid any ironic ankle-grabbing desk monsters.   
  
She plunged into the Net, looking for another copy of the spell or some other form of help and sending email after email to the Wiccan who had originally mentioned the spell to her.  
  
Nothing. No spell, no help, no new email. Not only was she doomed, but she was also incredibly unpopular. Peachy.  
  
Finally, Willow noticed that she was spending more time glancing nervously out the window then she was looking at the computer screen. She gave up and turned off her monitor, rubbing her temples absently in a vain attempt to fend off the headache she could feel building.   
  
This is getting me nowhere, she thought, I feel like I'm just killing ti - more bad analogies! I really need to stop doing that.   
  
She looked apprehensively at the window. He was out there, somewhere. And the sun was setting. And the barrier was up and oh, he was going to be angry with her Willow shivered. The words, 'come in, Angelus' hovered on the tip of her tongue. Maybe if she invited him in before he arrived he wouldn't kill her. Maybe he wouldn't even be angry.   
  
Maybe she could hide in the basement until dawn and spend the night wondering which of her friends he'd kill while she was hiding there. That would be the opposite of fun, kind of like a twisted version of Clue where she tried to guess the victim instead of the murderer because there was no doubt who _that_ was.   
  
Angelus in the Library with a Butcher Knife, she thought. Angelus in Buffy's House with a Noose. Angelus on the Streets of Sunnydale with those Strong, Strong Hands.  
  
She had to breathe. Breathing was important.  
  
Willow stood up and stretched. It felt good to be moving, not waiting, and she felt something _click_ in her head.  
  
A second later, Willow was looking through her closet and picking out a simple flannel shirt and jeans. She put them on and checked the mirror. Bite marks covered, she thought. No exposed neck at all. Fashion sense? Not really an issue.  
  
She left the house without looking behind her, shutting the front door with a resolute slam and marching off down the sidewalk with stiff shoulders and a straight back. She thought that she must look just like a soldier going off to war. Except for the wobbling.   
  
Even so, she was brave. She was determined. She was going to the Bronze and having fun with her friends even if it killed her.   
  
Which it almost certainly would, she thought, and paused.  
  
And started walking again, her shoulders even stiffer and her back so straight that it could have been used as a ruler. She was brave. She was determined. And darn it, she was _going_ to the Bronze!  
  
______  
What do you think?  
  
Sorry for the delay, lovely people. I've been sick as a dog. A sick dog. I hate being sick and you'd think it would give me more free time to write, but most of my creative energy is taken up with devising new and ingenious ways to whine. I'm very good at it, you know. I'm a virtuoso of self-pity. *g* (All reviews on the last chapter replied to, and I adore you all.)  
  
On a more directly relevant note, I hope you all enjoy this part. I love where it's leading. I mean, I really, _really_ love where it's leading. I'm a sick woman in more ways than one. Heh.  
  
Ash


	9. Chapter Nine

Title: Good Intentions: Ground Rules  
Author: Ash   
Email: aka_jay66@hotmail.com  
Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish. Well, sometimes. Anyway, most things in this story belong to The Buffy People.   
Distribution: TPWFLD and anyone who wants it and asks.  
Feedback: Would be really appreciated.   
Rating: I give up. If it's not PG-13, I'll warn you.   
Time Period: Um, I'm arbitrarily setting this during the time of Angelus, when Leather Pants ran free. (And now he's back. Back! Whee!) 

Notes: Thanks to all the people who have commented on the Story that Would Not Die. *g* Remember, it's your comments that... well, remind me about this story, for one thing. (Bad memory! Work! ) Thank you all, especially Em for sending me a reminder that had the goodness of comments baked right in.  
  
**Part Nine**  
  
Willow looked around the Bronze. The music was loud, the place was crowded and coming there had been a very bad idea.   
  
Someone brushed against the back of her chair and Willow nearly broke her neck turning around to see who it was. It turned out to be someone with blond hair, a deep tan and his arm around a woman and a beer respectively. Even so, Willow watched him until he had disappeared into the crowd.  
  
Coming there had been a very, _very_ bad idea, Willow thought again, turning back to the table she was sharing with Xander. It had a good view of the bar and an even better view of Buffy moving on the dance floor, which went a long way to explaining why Xander hadn't noticed Willow's jumpiness.   
  
It was lucky that he was so distracted, Willow thought, very lucky. So very lucky. She nudged her water glass with her fingers and was vaguely disappointed when it didn't fall over and crush Xander's fingers.  
  
In retrospect, it was astonishingly clear that Willow should have gone somewhere else. Somewhere without people and noise and the constant unwanted physical touching. Somewhere with locks on the doors and bars on the windows.  
  
Willow frowned. Actually, she thought, there are bars on the windows. I wonder why?   
  
Okay, not the point, she thought sternly. The point was that vampires could come in, at least if they had a valid form of ID and paid the cover charge.   
  
She wondered if they really did pay the cover charge. It seemed slightly off kilter, the idea of the bloodthirsty undead walking up to the bouncer with five dollars and waiting to get their hands stamped with a picture of a happy dolphin.   
  
Still, vampires probably have to pay for some things just like everyone else. They can't kill the salespeople and burn down the stores _everywhere_ they shop. They must have favorite brands, discount cards, all that sort of thing. After all, stuff wears out. And then you need to buy new stuff. And vampires live forever, so they must need to replace things all the time...  
  
Willow decided to stop that train of thought right there, before she really got into trying to figure out how much shopping someone would have to do to last for all eternity. They would need a really big cart – no! Lack of focus wasn't good. She should leave. Find someplace with locks and doors. Or just go find Angelus herself and save him the trouble of tracking her down.  
  
"Willow," someone said close by her ear. The voice was male. The tone was neutral.   
  
Willow's shoulders slumped and she swiveled on her chair to face Oz, a bright smile on her face.   
  
"Oz! she said. Hey! "   
  
Wait, she thought, I might have to break up with him. Should I sound that happy?   
  
"I mean hey," she said again, trying to sound unenthusiastic.  
  
Oz looked at her quizzically. Or possibly furiously. It was kind of hard to tell with Oz.  
  
But whatever Oz was, he wasn't turning and walking away from her. Darn it, Willow thought when he smiled at her and slid into the seat beside her. Where were her boy-repulsing skills when she really needed them?  
  
"Hey, Oz said to Xander.   
  
Xander said, and waved at him.   
  
Even though Buffy was halfway across the room, Willow could spot the exact moment when Buffy noticed that Oz had appeared. Her eyebrows went up. Her mouth spread into a smile. She looked at Oz. She looked at Xander. She looked at Willow – and winked.   
  
Oh no, Willow thought. Keep dancing, Buffy. Don't come over here. Your top is falling off, but that's okay. Keep dancing. Please, please don't come over here.  
  
"Xander! Buffy said. Come dance with me!" She smiled brightly at Xander and Willow could see that smile reflected in his eyes. The poor boy never stood a chance.   
  
Willow was left alone with Oz.  
  
Under normal circumstances, she'd be balancing on the edge between happy and nervous. Now, even though it still made her happy to see him, the nervousness was gone. Well, at least the kissing-nervous. The "I can't see you anymore 'cause you might die"-nervous was still going strong.   
  
"When are the Dingoes going to play here again?" Willow said after a long silence.  
  
"We're not sure, Oz said, pausing, giving thought to it. Devon's involved in a thing at school."  
  
"What?" How could she break up with him?   
  
"He kind of didn't go for a few months. "  
  
"Oh. That's not a good thing." Look at him...  
  
Oz leaned a little bit in towards her and lowered his tone to a confidential whisper. "It shows he has priorities. Girls, the band, TV and then school." He sat back and nodded gravely. "I admire a man with convictions. "  
  
Willow had to grin, she couldn't help it, it wasn't her fault.   
  
A half smile spread across Oz's face in response, slow and unexpected and entirely too nice to look at. Willow looked at Oz's smile and forgot that she was going to tell him to go away.   
  
*****  
  
Angelus was on Willow's balcony. And then he was turning the door handle. And then he was walking inside the room, except that he wasn't. The barrier was back up.  
  
Angelus stood where the barrier had stopped him, frozen in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the dark room, his face a blank and empty mask.   
  
The smile that came onto his face was a bleak and terrible thing.  
  
Her scent was gone, Angelus thought absently. She wasn't in the house. Gone entirely then, and for a moment he thought that she could be on a bus somewhere, hurtling towards the horizon. His hands were curled into fists and he could taste blood on his lip.   
  
His blood, he thought. Not hers.   
  
The vision of Willow on the bus dissolved into nothing because she wouldn't do that, she wouldn't leave her friends. She was out there somewhere, out from behind the protective barrier and waiting for him to come find her. It was a game, his game, his favorite game, and she was trying to change the rules.  
  
He wasn't sure whether to be angry or amused.   
  
The first stirrings of a sharper hunger helped him make up his mind. Willow was defying him, and right at the beginning, too. She should be too frightened to breathe right now, too frightened to think of anything besides the night and the pain. He'd been too lenient. His mistake. Too bad for her.  
  
Sunnydale was a much larger place when you were looking for someone. With every minute that passed, with every flash of red hair that was not _her_ red hair, Angelus felt his anger grow. He'd wanted to taste her first that night, see how the sharp edge of daytime starvation added to the taste of her blood. Like the cherry on a sundae, he thought. Or salt on a burn.  
  
He reached out and grabbed a woman by her not-quite-red-enough hair, pulling her face towards him for just a second before he let go. It wasn't Willow. The woman fell to her knees in the street, gathering breath to scream. Angelus walked past her without looking back.   
  
He heard the first scream behind him a second before he turned the corner into the alley. A second later he heard running feet coming up fast behind him, and he smiled and turned around.  
  
The man who came running around the corner was wearing colorful sneakers and a baseball hat. He nearly ran into Angelus before he stopped short, eyes wide.  
  
It's always the young ones, Angelus said, the words distorted by fangs and tongue and hunger.   
  
The young man said, and took a step backwards.  
  
First rule in the book, Angelus said. Mind your own business.   
  
It only took one long step forwards for him to be within range, close enough to grab the boy by the throat, close enough to slam his head hard against the wall. The boy slumped like a puppet whose strings had been cut and Angelus bent over him, his coat falling over the boys face.   
  
It wasn't enough. It wasn't her.  
  
Angelus left the body in the alley when he'd finished with it, the colorful sneakers dark in the shadow, the baseball hat crumpled on the ground. Angelus felt perversely angry with the dead boy for not being Willow, angry with Willow for not being the dead boy. She'd ruined his plans, forced him to feed on someone else rather than risk draining her entirely. He'd done it to save her. He wondered if she'd be grateful.  
  
Angelus entered the Bronze and was buffeted by noise and heat and smell, Willow's smell, like a splash of color in a black and white photograph. And another scent too, like the smell of a world on fire. Angelus' eyes narrowed. Buffy was there too. That complicated things.   
  
It wasn't difficult to find either of them.   
  
The humans in the club were probably aware of it to some degree. They would feel a prickling heat on the back of their necks, a cold sick feeling in their stomachs, a need to hold the hand of the person next to them and press head to chest when dancing to hear the beating heart. All subtle signs, bodies trying to warn their owners to beware, there were _things_ around. Many things. Not safe. Not normal.  
  
Even Buffy should be able to pick out the vampires in the crowd tonight, Angelus thought. All she'd need was a dart and a blindfold.   
  
Of course, there were other ways of identifying them. Looking at the crowd was like looking at an abstract painting, blobs of color and random faces and then suddenly a revelation, a resolution into meaning. Because there were so many people in the crowd that weren't talking or laughing or dancing. And they were all carefully not looking at the same thing. Their faces were tight with the effort of not looking at it.  
  
Willow. Sitting at a table with the new boy, laughing at something.   
  
Angelus didn't think she knew that she was surrounded by vampires, all of whom were completely focused on the sight of her and the smell of her and the thought of her blood. If she knew, she wouldn't be laughing. She'd be screaming.   
  
It wasn't hard to locate Buffy, either. The undead population of the club was clustered in a semi-circle around Willow, but no one was near the dance floor.   
  
Angelus growled sub-vocally to attract the attention of the vampires. He watched as one by one they reluctantly turned from Willow. He watched their eyes widen when they saw him standing there. There was a subtle widening of the circle around her, vampires taking a few steps back to symbolize their acceptance of his claim. He took one of the eldest aside and muttered a few terse instructions before he stepped back into the deep shadows by the door.   
  
A few minutes later, ten vampires walked by the dance floor. Each one held a terrified girl by the wrist, dragging them along behind their captors as they pushed their way through the crowd to the exit.   
  
Angelus watched as Buffy and Xander stopped dancing and rushed to Willow's table. Willow and the new guy stood up and followed Buffy and Xander as they led the way through the crowd. Buffy went outside, followed by Xander, trailed by Oz and –  
  
The crowd in front of Willow was suddenly a solid wall of people. She was dodging from side to side, muttering things like, Excuse me, and Could you? to the throng. They took no notice of her, talking to each other with blank smiling faces and twitching hands. She was becoming angry and afraid. She smelled like blood and sex and death.   
  
She was too far away.  
  
And then Angelus' hands were on her shoulders and he was spinning her around to face him, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arms and surprising a soft gasp from her. Willow's eyes were wide and frightened as she looked up into his face and it was almost enough to make him forgive her, but not quite.  
  
He smiled at her, gripping her tighter just to see her wince and he pushed her backwards, forcing her to walk backwards as he pushed her towards the edge of the room.   
  
"We need to _talk_," he said to Willow, and watched the fear bloom in her eyes.   
  
As they approached the wall, one of the dancers reached out and casually opened a door, letting it swing open onto a black empty rectangle of space. Angelus released Willow's arms and pushed her hard, open palmed and vicious, and she made a small hurt shocked sound and fell into the room and onto the floor.  
  
Angelus stepped in after her and closed the door.  
  
_______  
End Part Nine  
Tell me what you think?  
  
Ah, the fun. Curse my busy schedule. After Angelus' triumphant return on Angel all I want to do is sit down and write shiny pretty Angelus fic. I'm a sick puppy and I know it, but I can't seem to bring myself to care. *g*  
  
(All reviews replied to tomorrow, 'cause I'm sleepy. Didn't think you guys would want to wait until tomorrow for the new chapter. See? I'm a nice person, occasionally.)


	10. Chapter Ten

Part Ten  
  
Willow's mind was racing but her body was falling and the door was already closing behind her, behind them, closing on all the light and the noise and the people so that by the time she hit the floor she couldn't see what she'd hit, couldn't see anything in fact, and the sound of her own breathing seemed was loud in the sudden silence.  
  
Angelus' hands on her shoulders, Angelus' voice, Angelus' eyes looking into hers.  
  
He'd looked very angry, Willow thought, right before he'd shoved her into silence and shut the door on the rest of the world. And now he was in there with her, somewhere, and she kept thinking that her eyes were going to adjust. Except that they didn't, because there was no light at all, not even enough to be afraid by, and he wasn't doing anything or saying anything or attacking her and it was driving her crazy.  
  
After a few more hideous seconds of waiting, Willow finally looked up. Maybe he wanted to see the fear in her eyes. Fine. No problem there. Fear o'plenty. Fear by the bucketful and she tried to put all of it in her eyes as she stared at the place in the absolute darkness where she'd last seen Angelus.  
  
Of course, he could have moved. He could be anywhere. No, Willow thought, I'd have heard him move. Wouldn't I? I hope I would...  
  
To ward off the disturbing potential of Angelus-lurkage she stared fixedly ahead, trying very hard to believe that she could see him. Over there. Away from her.  
  
Getting up from the softly carpeted floor was an option, but not really a good one. Moving around would increase the amount of places where she knew Angelus was not, and thus would in effect find him, like some kind of twisted backwards version of hide and go seek. She didn't want to find him. She didn't want him to find her, either. She wanted a time machine so she could go back a week and help Buffy by buying her a puppy. Or shoes. Or that blue top she wanted...  
  
What might have been an alarmingly long shopping list of regrets came to an abrupt end when Willow realized that something that felt alarmingly like a shoe was prodding her in the ribs. Hard.  
  
Willow smothered a small frightened noise and squirmed away from the thing that was not a shoe, definitely not a shoe, and her back made contact with something that felt like, but obviously couldn't be, a leg.  
  
Her mind kept ticking against her will, remorselessly adding up that a leg on one side of her plus a shoe on the other side equaled...  
  
In what she would later acknowledge to be a very bad move, Willow rolled onto her back and peered up into the darkness above her, struggling to discern a face.  
  
It could be someone else, she thought. It could be Buffy. It must be Buffy. She noticed that I was missing and came in and silently managed to get in this room and is playing mind games with me...  
  
Yeah, Willow thought. It's not Buffy.  
  
And then she wasn't thinking anything because there was a sudden weight on top of her, heavier than anything, colder than Xander's hands and it was crushing the air out of her and Angelus' face was suddenly inches away from her own, a pale blurred oval with unreadable eyes and a dark smiling slash for a mouth.  
  
Not a good thing, Willow thought. Not good at all!  
  
Angelus raised himself up on his elbows and Willow could breathe again, although maybe not, because he took her head in his hands and his fingers were buried deep in her hair, shivery and cold against her scalp and somehow more intimate than the press of his legs against hers because that was force, that was hate, and this was different and new and like something Oz might do someday or Xander, maybe, but not Angelus.  
  
But putting all that aside, Willow still had to breathe and when she took a breath she saw with alarm that Angelus' eyes followed the movement of her chest. Up and down and up and down and...  
  
Shouldn't he be looking at her throat? Not that she *wanted* him to look at her - never mind.  
  
Angelus trailed a finger down Willow's cheek and she just hoped that she wasn't blushing, that would be embarrassing and also somehow inappropriate, under the circumstances.  
  
"Willow," Angelus said in a slow voice.  
  
Eep, Willow thought. No, wait! He said we needed to talk. Talk!  
  
"You said that we need to talk?" Willow said hopefully, trying to sound confident and unconcerned, like she wasn't trapped under a heavy vampire in a dark room.  
  
Angelus' smile confirmed Willow's suspicion that she hadn't quite managed to pull off confident and unconcerned. Maybe next time she should go for confident and terrified.  
  
"Did you know," Angelus said conversationally, his hand moving again, tracing the line of her lips, running lower to skim her collarbone. "That when you're afraid," His fingers dipped under the neckline of Willow's sweater, and her stomach dropped to her knees and he looked at her almost fondly and said, "the scent of your blood changes."  
  
Eep, Willow thought again. That's not going to do me any good at all.  
  
"What do we need to talk about?" Willow tried again. Please say the weather, she thought.  
  
Angelus' smile disappeared. "Do you know what I found when I went to visit you this evening?"  
  
That has to be rhetorical, Willow thought.  
  
Angelus' lips tightened over suddenly pointed teeth. He moved on top of her in a way that was wholly disturbing, settling her more firmly against him.  
  
"What. Did. I. Find," Angelus said, his fingers curling in her hair and digging into her scalp.  
  
"A..protection spell.." Willow said, trying to keep perfectly still as movement brought pain, and also more body-to-body friction than she was used to.  
  
Angelus' grip gentled slightly, and his game face vanished.  
  
"Yes," Angelus said, his voice returning to its normal silky purr. "A protection spell, clever little witch. And you. Gone."  
  
Willow felt a vague impulse to apologize, but fought it down. I don't belong to him, she thought fiercely. Not now. Not ever!  
  
Angelus' eyes narrowed. "You're lucky tonight," he said, "I'm not going to punish you. Say thank you."  
  
"Thank you, Angelus," Willow said after a pause, because really, if all she had to do was say thank you, that was good. She'd send him a thank you muffin basket if he wanted one.  
  
"Don't thank me yet," Angelus said, and Willow opened her mouth and closed it again. "You didn't break any *specific* rules," he continued lightly. "I blame myself, really."  
  
It was strange, the contrast between his voice and his actions and his eyes, Willow thought. Because his tone was so casual, like they really were discussing the weather, but he was arching backwards now and pulling her up with him, not even letting her put a breath of air between them, and she couldn't really see his eyes but she thought that they'd be furious.  
  
Angelus pulled her close until her head was forced against his chest, smothering her again. His voice was cold as he whispered in her ear, "Every pet needs guidelines, or they'll just run wild. Can't blame you for that. But if you know the rules and break them, it's a whole different ballgame. One that I'd enjoy teaching you... and your friends."  
  
Willow swallowed. It was so dark. And he was so close. And there were about ten million things about torture and pain that he knew and she didn't.  
  
"What are the rules?" Willow asked. It's just like in school, she thought. Like a course outlines. What books to read, what essay format to use, threats about plagiarism. That's all. I can do this. I'm good at following the rules.  
  
"If you want to leave the house after sunset, you *ask* the night before," Angelus said.  
  
Willow grimaced, but nodded. At least he wasn't telling her to *never* leave the house.  
  
"Never revoke my invitation again," Angelus said. "Tell no one of your new... situation."  
  
Yeah, Willow thought. I'm clear on those ones. Really, really clear.  
  
She nodded.  
  
Angelus pulled her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes.  
  
"That's it for the moment. But understand, you *belong* to me, Willow. If you don't accept that people will die, and you will suffer. That you have even part of your normal life remaining is entirely because that's how I want it to be. For now."  
  
Willow had to fight back the words that jumped to her lips. She didn't belong to him. Also, she didn't want to hear him say her name like that ever again.  
  
"Fight me if you have to," Angelus said after a moment, watching her. "I'll enjoy teaching you to behave."  
  
I don't like the way he said that, Willow thought. I *believe* him, but I don't like it. Unconsciousness is starting to look really good right about now.  
  
Might as well get the next bit over with, she decided reluctantly. More talking could only lead to trouble.  
  
She tiled her head to one side and offered him her neck. She could feel his muscles tighten as he realized what she was doing.  
  
Soft lips grazed the bared line of her neck and Willow jerked away in surprise, her eyes flying up to meet his.  
  
The shadow of a smile was on Angelus' lips. "Why, Willow," he said and yes, that was exactly how she hadn't wanted him to say her name again, "are you offering yourself to me?"  
  
Willow nodded, puzzled. It wasn't like she had a choice, she thought.  
  
And then Angelus' mouth was pressed tight to hers, crushing her lips against her teeth and forcing her mouth to open under his. It only lasted for a second, a confused second of pain and panic, and then Angelus was pulling away, eyes still open and staring at her. There was darkness in his eyes, satisfaction too, Willow thought, and it must be a skewed mirror image of the stunned comprehension in hers.  
  
"I accept," Angelus said.  
  
_______  
  
Tell me what you think?  
  
So sorry for the delay, darling people. I've been having computer and e- mail problems, not necessarily at the same time, but fairly devastating all the same. Damn it, I want a working computer again. Grr.  
  
I'm now operating on an entirely new hard drive, without any of my pretty old files or saved documents, but I'm still taking time away from my efforts to save my old system to write about Angelus. Frankly, after spending eight hours on the phone with technical support, I *need* to write about Angelus. Or eat pizza. But, sadly, I have no pizza.  
  
Uh, yes. Enough of me. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Title: Good Intention: Ground Rules  
Author: Ash  
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, no matter how much I might want  
to, and someday I'll learn to accept that.  
Feedback: Would be appreciated.  
Summary: Set in the time when Angelus roamed free and Willow still babbled.  
  
When Willow tries to help Buffy feel safe, she has the best of intentions.  
That should have been a warning sign right there.  
  
Part Eleven  
  
"I accept," Angelus said.  
  
Willow stared at him. A sick feeling was starting to twist in the place  
where her stomach had been just before it dropped through the floor.  
Because it didn't sound like he was joking, and there were very few good  
ways to 'offer' yourself to a vampire and god, she'd thought that being  
bitten would be the low point of her day.  
  
Willow opened her mouth to say that whatever he was thinking, that wasn't  
what she'd meant, but Angelus' smile was a grayed slash in the darkness and  
Willow closed her mouth again because he wouldn't care what she'd meant. Oh  
god, she thought again. Her heart was beating hard and fast.  
  
"So quiet?" Angelus said, sounding disappointed. "It's not like you to  
just give in. I expected you to argue... fight me..."  
  
His hand settled at the base of her neck, fingers spreading across her skin  
and Willow knew that if she looked down, she'd see that his hand went almost  
from shoulder to shoulder, he had such large hands. And then she felt  
something else, a cool touch where there should be fabric and knew that his  
hand was under her top, knew it logically and wanted to scream.  
  
He was trying to scare her, Willow knew that, just trying to get a reaction  
out of her and no, oh no, his hand was still moving, nonono, this wasn't  
supposed to happen this way.  
  
And then she was fighting him, she didn't remember starting to fight him but  
she was fighting him as hard as she could, squirming under his weight and  
kicking out with her feet, pushing with her hands, trying desperately to put  
space between them, as much space as possible, two feet of space would be  
okay, two miles would be even better, two hundred miles would be barely  
enough but she couldn't even get two inches, his hands were pinning her arms  
behind her back and his legs were heavy and painful on top of hers.  
  
And he was laughing at her, Willow could tell this was just as funny as  
anything to him, which was almost worse than anything else he could do to  
her and made her wish that she could hurt him, just a little, even if he  
killed her for it.  
  
From somewhere inside the electric buzz filling her mind, Willow heard  
Angelus chuckle deep and low in his throat and suddenly realized that he was  
enjoying this way too much, that it was, in fact, making him the exact  
opposite of angry. She froze.  
  
Predatory, Willow thought. Vampires are predators. Anything that struggles  
is prey. I don't *want* to be prey! I want to be home, safe! With ice cream!  
  
When Willow dared to look up, Angelus was watching her, looking not at all  
like ice cream. His lips twitched with what might have been humor or rage  
or lust or hunger, Willow had no idea, although she thought that the fact  
that he was pulling her closer again was probably some sort of clue.  
  
"Do you know that you mumble?" Angelus said curiously, settling her back  
against his chest firmly.  
  
Okay, Willow thought, that's not what I expected him to say. But  
considering the alternatives, this is good. Wait. mumbling?  
  
"I do not!" Willow protested without thinking. Because hey, she thought a  
second later, why not argue with him? Why would she want the bloodthirsty  
fiend holding her life in his hands to be in a *good* mood? Idiot.  
  
To her relief, Angelus seemed amused rather than angered by her denial.  
"Yes, you do," he said, "but most people can't hear it."  
  
"O-kay," Willow said doubtfully.  
  
Do not, she thought.  
  
Angelus looked like he was trying not to laugh, which was unnerving, but  
then he didn't look like he wanted to laugh at all, and that was even more  
unnerving.  
  
And then his mouth was on her neck again, so fast and frightening and soft  
and there was still no pain or blood but just slow sweet kisses pressed  
against her skin, painful in a different way, and he still wasn't biting her  
and what kind of prey did he think she was, anyway?  
  
"Your analogy has a few flaws," Angelus murmured against her skin.  
  
My... what? Willow thought. It was hard to think, harder still to hold  
her body rigid and pretend that his mouth wasn't there, wasn't shocking and  
wet and like the time she'd tried to take the toaster apart using a fork  
while it was still plugged in. "A..analogy?" she said dazedly, because she  
had to respond, had to show that this wasn't affecting her at all.  
  
And then there was something like an earthquake and Willow was suddenly flat  
on her back, staring directly up into Angelus' eyes.  
  
"You are not, as you put it, my *prey*," Angelus said slowly, and Willow's  
heart skipped a beat.  
  
I mumble, she thought wildly. And he can hear me! Stop it, me! Wait, am I  
doing it now?  
  
"Yes," Angelus said, "and you are *mine*. I don't have to chase you, hunt  
you or catch you." His voice seemed to be on a downward slope, sliding down  
into growling territory, getting deep and rough now, and he punctuated each  
word with a slight shake that flung Willow's head back and left her dizzy  
and blurred.  
  
"On the other hand..." Angelus continued, and the sudden shift from molten  
anger to pure sensuality made her skin crawl with... relief? Fear? Willow  
couldn't tell any more. Crawling was her skin's natural condition at this  
point.  
  
"If I *want* to chase you..." Angelus said, and one of his hands slipped to  
the small of her back. "If I *choose* to hunt you..." And he leaned his  
weight into her, slowly forcing her to the carpet. His next words were  
breathed an inch from her mouth, the cool air tingling against her lips. " I  
'll always catch you, Willow. Again, and again and again..."  
  
Willow's thoughts were a tangled mass of panic and hatred and the softness  
of the carpet against her back and the stifling darkness that surrounded her  
and the hardness of Angelus' body pressed against her own and the fear that  
she wasn't going to get out of there alive. A thousand confused things all  
pressed into a tight little ball in the center of her chest and a frantic  
waiting for what was going to happen next.  
  
And then it was happening, no more waiting, Angelus' mouth pressed tight to  
hers, hard and hurting like he didn't care if she could breathe or not, and  
no more air in her lungs. Willow gasped, suddenly afraid, more afraid of  
this than of anything, but closing her lips against him didn't work and then  
there were ridges pressing against her forehead and fangs biting at her lips  
and the pain of that and the fear when he licked away the blood and hoping  
that he'll get distracted and just bite her already, please, please, but his  
mouth was already back on hers and there was no denying it, he was kissing  
her.  
  
Kissing her again, she should say, and this time he was smart enough to  
force her lips to open, so strange when that happened, she's not quite sure  
how it happened, but there it was and Angelus was holding her head tight in  
an iron grip while his smooth cool tongue was in her mouth now, her mouth,  
Willow's mouth, and it was getting very difficult to pretend that it wasn't  
happening. It was so different from Oz, different from Dream Xander too,  
and knowing it was *Angelus*, evil Angelus, evil murder-torturer-Buffy's  
boyfriend Angelus, was really freaking out her mind but her body didn't seem  
to get the concept.  
  
It was something like an itch, Willow thought clinically as her hips started  
to move on their own, just a little, rocking just a little, and then her  
hand was in his hair and she wasn't quite sure how it'd got there.  
  
Willow could feel it when Angelus smiled against her mouth, and she was just  
about to respond by pulling away when he beat her to it, his mouth suddenly  
gone, and the smile that she'd felt very much in evidence as she looked up  
at him through half-closed eyes.  
  
He was surprisingly gentle when he tilted her head to the side, a good  
thing, she thought, because her body felt like it had melted, or maybe  
evaporated entirely. And then the next thing was the sharp pain in her neck  
and Angelus' body trembling against hers. She didn't struggle. It was  
almost a relief, after all. It meant that it was over.  
  
Willow was almost used to it now, the black drowning feeling when the blood  
was going out and the world was closing in, the pain at first unbearable and  
then just a dull localized ache. And then should come the unconsciousness,  
but Angelus was pulling away and Willow was still conscious, though dizzy.  
  
Which was good, Willow supposed, but it would have been so much simpler if  
she'd been unconscious.  
  
Angelus got to his feet quicker than she could see, no longer a weight on  
Willow's chest but a tall figure standing over her. And damn it, Willow  
thought hazily, she still wasn't unconscious, although she almost made it  
when Angelus reached down and dragged her up so fast that her head seemed to  
turn inside out. But no, still no fainting, because that was just the way  
her luck was running tonight.  
  
Willow swayed, couldn't get her feet to work right, and would have fallen if  
Angelus hadn't been holding her wrists so tightly. He wasn't looking at her  
though, he was staring past her into the darkness around them and his eyes  
were yellow and shining. Willow twisted slightly in his grip and looked  
around nervously, trying to see what had alarmed him.  
  
"Lights," Angelus said, and the darkness burned away into light.  
  
Willow blinked and blinked again and finally had to close her eyes for a few  
seconds against the brightness. When she opened them again, she could see.  
And she really, really wished she couldn't.  
  
Because there they were. Standing along the walls, draped over couches,  
crouched no more than a few feet from where she stood. Vampires.  
  
Her eyes skipped from one to the other as though she could make them  
disappear and it was even worse than she'd thought, because they were all  
staring at her, watching *her*, not Angelus, and the one crouched on the  
floor was so close that she could have reached out and touched him, ruffled  
his soft brown hair, but she thought that he'd probably bite her hand if she  
tried.  
  
Wait, Willow thought. She'd lost a lot of blood and she could still taste  
Angelus' mouth on hers, but wait.  
  
How long had they been there?  
  
Had they been there when Angelus was laying down the rules?  
  
Had they been there when she tried to get away?  
  
Had they been there when he. when she. well, they must have been, right?  
And so they'd seen everything. Heard the little noises that she hoped she  
hadn't made. Oh no, no, no, this was humiliation on a whole new level,  
this was Cordelia times ten times her entire high school career up until the  
day Buffy sat down beside her.  
  
And it was horrible because they were still watching her, so many pairs of  
golden eyes watching the blood rush to her face.  
  
Angelus growled low in his throat and said, "She's *mine*, proven and  
witnessed. Anyone here want to argue it?" His burning eyes sought out each  
vampire in turn. "Don't be shy."  
  
One by one, the vampires shook their heads. One by one, with palpable  
regret, they said, "Yours."  
  
When the door slammed behind them, Willow turned to face Angelus. He was  
leaning against the door back to the Bronze, an expectant look on his face.  
She took a step towards him and he shook his head, smiling at her.  
  
Willow lowered her head to hide her eyes.  
  
"I'm yours," she said to his feet, and thought about killing him.  
  
_______  
Tell me what you think?  
  
Ah, the fun. Angelus definitely has my heart, and not in the same way that  
he has the internal organs of many other people. That is to say, not in a  
jar.  
  
No, I like him in that mushy way that means I'd send him Valentines with no  
return address mailed from anonymous postal codes if I could be very very  
sure he'd never find me. What can I say, I'm a romantic. But a pragmatic  
one. *g*  
  
In other news, I have a livejournal now! Shocking, eh? But probably a  
good place to go if you want to pester me, harass me, or possibly even just  
talk to me. All my new fics will be posted there as I attempt to organize  
myself to some degree, as well as all of my drawings:  
  
www.livejournal.com/users/ashjay/  
  
Drop by and say hello.  
  
Ash "Friendly and Harmless" Jay 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Title: Good Intention: Ground Rules  
Author: Ash  
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, no matter how much I might want to, and someday I'll learn to accept that.  
Feedback: Would be appreciated.  
Summary: Set in the time when Angelus roamed free and Willow still babbled.  
  
When Willow tries to help Buffy feel safe, she has the best of intentions. That should have been a warning sign right there.  
  
Dedication: To Princess Incognito and Lady Dark Star, who are both far more creative than I am. Seriously. It's embarrassing. *g*  
  
Part Twelve  
  
Willow lowered her head to hide her eyes from Angelus.  
  
"I'm yours," she said to the floor, and thought about killing him.  
  
Willow was shaking, couldn't seem to help it, and there was a sick shamed feeling in her stomach. She wasn't supposed to have to admit that he had power over her; she knew that. She was supposed to tilt her head up proudly and say something clever and wait for Buffy to come in and save her.  
  
But Buffy wasn't coming, and wouldn't kill Angelus even if she did, and Willow was afraid.   
  
It was humiliating.   
  
But now she was thinking, as she stared at the floor, that maybe this was worse than fear, because saying it out loud made it all seem so much more real, so much more permanent. Like something that could be forever.   
  
Still, she thought, trying to cheer herself up, it could have been worse. There could have been other people here to hear me say that, like there was - memory flash of vampires watching her, in the dark, with Angelus' hands on her and her hands in his hair - yeah, she was going to stop thinking about that right now.   
  
A pair of black shoes entered Willow's field of vision, and then a hand had hold of her chin, the feel of skin on skin an unpleasant shock, and he was forcing her head up, fingers grinding against her jawbone when she tried to pull away. Stubbornly, she lowered her eyelids as he raised her head and kept her eyes on the floor.   
  
And of course, because nothing worked against him, this left her with her face held firmly in her hands and the feel of his eyes on her face somehow so much more frightening because she couldn't see him, her downcast eyes making her feel somehow vulnerable. Submissive, she thought.   
  
Angelus' chuckle broke the muffled silence in the room. "Hardly," he said.  
  
Damn, damn, *damn*, Willow though. The mumbling. She was still doing it. Unless...  
  
"Hardly yours?" Willow said hopefully, darting a quick glance up at him. She got a brief impression of amusement sliding into anger before she looked away. He tightened his grip on her face, fingers digging painfully into her skin.  
  
"It's a little late to be coy," Angelus said, and he sounded so friendly and he was *hurting her*.   
  
Willow opened her mouth to speak and choked on a sudden gasp of pain, a small hurt sound that brought the smile back to Angelus' face.  
  
"You know that you're mine, pretty girl," Angelus continued calmly. "Don't you."  
  
Nod, nod, nod went Willow's head and she kept nodding, because Angelus' hands wouldn't let her stop. She could barely see his face, her world was blurring, and she didn't remember bringing her hands up but they were there, trying uselessly to pull his hands away.  
  
"Mine," Angelus said, and Willow's head nodded emphatically. "And now every important vampire in Sunnydale knows it."  
  
That was a different kind of pain, that memory a sharp twist in Willow's chest, and she tried to stop her head from nodding but couldn't.   
  
Angelus stopped it for her, abruptly back in focus, abruptly closer as he dragged her forward until her chin was almost on his chest. "You *should* be thanking me," he said in a put-upon tone.  
  
You *must* be kidding me, Willow thought.  
  
Angelus released her face, one short second of freedom, not enough time to run, before his hand had resettled in her hair, twisting a handful of it to force her face to stay tilted up to his. It was an awkward angle, and Willow was going to have a major crick in her neck in a few minutes, but at least she could talk again. She could talk her way out of this.  
  
"Are you kidding?" she said incredulously, unable to stop herself. "I should thank you? For what?"   
  
Humiliating me, drinking my blood... Oh yeah, she thought. Thanks muchly. There's a reason that Hallmark doesn't make cards for this kind of thing, you know.  
  
Angelus' mouth twitched.  
  
Damn it, Willow thought.  
  
"You know," Angelus said reflectively, "there's a fine line between innocence and stupidity. Which side of the line are you on, Willow?"  
  
Willow narrowed her eyes. She didn't like where this was going.  
  
"Let's think about this, shall we?" Angelus said, and his voice was as condescending as Cordelia on her best day. "Where did all those vampires out there come from, do you think?"  
  
"I-" Willow said, and stopped.  
  
Angelus' smile was an unpleasant shock. "Good girl," he said softly, "A- for effort. All the vampires that were in here were out there before I got here. All for you, darling. All wanting to take you, *waiting* to take you. Doesn't that make you feel special?"   
  
Willow wanted to die. They had been out there, watching her? She was trying to remember what she'd been doing. Had they seen her looking at Xander? At Oz? Had they - oh no, had they seen her trying to dance?  
  
And none of that mattered, because they wouldn't have cared about any of that, they would have killed her without even bothering to ask if she hand any kind of spell on her and yes, the laugh would have been on them, but she wouldn't really have been in any position to enjoy it.   
  
Stupid. He was right. She was stupid.  
  
" If I hadn't come to find you, to protect you, Willow, you would have died," Angelus continued remorselessly. His voice gentled, and he added, "Isn't it better to be mine?"   
  
Stupid, Willow thought. How could she - what had she been - stupid, oh, what was wrong with her? She only dimly realized that she was trembling.  
  
She could see what almost had happened, every grisly way she could have died, almost feel the pain at throat and wrists and hear herself begging, and when arms enfolded her she let them pull her close and she buried her face in his shirt.   
  
"It's all right now," Angelus said from somewhere above her, and Willow was holding on to him now, her arms wrapping around his back as she pushed her face hard against his chest, mumbling incoherent angry words into the cloth.  
  
Stupid, she thought savagely. And she couldn't even tell anyone, couldn't ask Buffy for forgiveness, couldn't ask Xander to give her his extra cookie at lunch tomorrow, she was all alone.   
  
"It's all *right*!" Angelus repeated, sounding slightly confused and irritated by her reaction. "They know who you belong to now. They'll leave you alone."  
  
Willow reluctantly pulled her head back and looked up at him. He was the one causing all her problems, she reminded herself. Therefore, he's really not the one to be crying on. Not unless he was wearing a silk shirt, of course, because then it would be water-stained and hah, that would show him. Wait -  
  
"Is that why you did it?" Willow said hesitantly, "You know, all of... that?" She waved her hands in a nebulous gesture meant to symbolize everything that had happened in the room.  
  
Angelus looked down at her, and his mouth twisted. "Yes," he said.   
  
Thank God, Willow thought, and felt like smiling for the first time in hours. Because she could live with the biting, but the rest... yikes.   
  
"But..." Angelus said slowly.  
  
'But'? Willow thought. No but! That was a good answer!   
  
"That isn't to say it won't happen again," Angelus finished smoothly, and Willow suddenly realized that his hands on her back, which had been comforting, had begun a slow stroking motion. Up. Down. Up.   
  
Yipes!  
  
Willow pushed hard against Angelus' chest and managed to lever herself all of two inches away from him, which would have been more encouraging if the smirk on Angelus' face hadn't made it clear that he was letting her to do it.   
  
"But... blood!" Willow said hopefully.   
  
She couldn't believe that she was trying to talk him into biting her. Again. Oh, this was a banner day for Willow's self-esteem.   
  
"Yes," Angelus said, the word low and disturbing. His fingers lingered over the pulsing vein in her neck. "Your blood makes you mine." The cool weight of his fingers was on her face now, leaving a trail of ice where they traced over the bone. "But the rest of you belongs to me too. Which means that..." His smile was pure devilment. "I can do whatever I want with it."  
  
There didn't seem to be anything to be said to that. The only things that Willow could think of to say were either:   
  
Hey! I don't belong to you! And I'm not an it! - Which is pretty much suicide, she thought.  
  
Or:  
  
But... why would you want me? - Which sounds like I'm begging for compliments.   
  
So she didn't say anything.   
  
In retrospect, that wasn't the best move either.  
  
She had about a second to regret it, and then Angelus pulled her close and her mind went blank. Angelus' lips were cool, soft, and frighteningly gentle when he brushed them against her eyelids, her cheeks, so gentle that she wanted to cry because it was all a lie and reality was sharp and painful.  
  
But then his mouth was on hers, still gentle, soft and coaxing as his tongue traced the closed frightened line of her lips, and it was so hard to remember that it wasn't real when there was something bright and complicated twisting itself up in her stomach and she opened her mouth under his and felt rather than heard the satisfied hum he made, and forgot it entirely when his hands slid around to her hips and pulled them hard against him.   
  
She was making noises again, small desperate noises that sounded like they must have been coming from someone else, and they blended into the sound of his voice when he spoke softly, encouragingly, against her skin and told her what a good girl she was, how well she was doing, such a good girl, and Willow felt drugged and distant when he silenced himself again on her mouth and she closed her eyes and forgot who she was.  
  
Angelus drew away first and dropped his hands and stepped away. And left Willow standing alone and suddenly bereft.  
  
Willow looked at him with dazed eyes, feeling forgetfulness drop away like a shroud and remembering that this was wrong, all of it, completely wrong, and she took in the unruffled calm of his expression and the faintly amused smile on his face as he watched her struggle back to memory. At that moment, her emotions were uncomplicated: hate.  
  
Hate for him knowing just how to get to her, for making her not fight him, for making her feel things that made her ill to think of now, with him looking at her like that, Angelus, darkness and pain and evil and calm, unstirred by an experience that had shattered her, was still shattering her.   
  
One more second of that awful calm watching and she still couldn't speak, and Angelus took her by the arm and pulled her to the door and opened it.   
  
"Tomorrow, Willow. Be home," he said, his fingers dropping away from her arm. "Now go find your friends and let them know that you're fine."  
  
Is that what I am, Willow thought numbly. Fine?   
  
She stepped out and the door closed behind her, melting invisibly back into the wall of the Bronze. Willow turned to walk away and nearly bumped into Buffy.  
  
"Willow!" Buffy said with an uncomplicated smile. "There you are! Where'd you go? Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine," Willow said softly, and wondered when it became so easy to lie.   
  
____  
End Part Twelve  
Tell me what you think?  
  
Sorry for the long delay there. I was distracted by other shiny objects like Harry Potter fic and drawing and illness and, yeah, as excuses go, these aren't good ones. *hangs head*  
  
Still, fic! That's never a bad thing, eh? And it's another Angelus-heavy part, which is always fun for me to write and hopefully fun for you guys to read. (If not, well, there's not much I can do. I doubt he'd let me write him out of the fic at this point.)  
  
Argh. Must run. Sleepy. As always, comments make me bounce. *g* All reviews from the last chapter, which did indeed make me bounce tremendously and also make a high-pitched happy noise, will be replied to tomorrow.  
  
Ash  
xanadu-dreams.com  
www.livejournal.com/users/ashjay 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Title: Good Intentions: Testing the Limits   
  
Author: Ash   
  
E-Mail: ashj@sympatico.ca  
  
Livejournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/ashjay/  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, no matter how much I might want to, and someday I'll learn to accept that.  
  
Feedback: Would be appreciated.  
  
Summary: When Willow tries to help Buffy feel safe, she has the best of intentions. That should have been a warning sign right there.  
  
Dedication: To Em, Gabrielle, and Lady Darkstar.  
  
  
  
Part Thirteen  
  
Willow's life was becoming blurred, hard to hold on to, a mismatched patchwork quilt of fear and smiling and crying and math classes and blood and...  
  
"Willow?" Buffy said, "Could you pass me the protractor?"  
  
"Sure," Willow said, and smiled as she passed it over.   
  
"Great. Now, could you do the problem for me?"   
  
Blink and Willow smiled again, a little too slow, a pause there for Willow to think 'what would Willow do?' and decide that the Willow-that-used-to-be would have found it funny.  
  
"No," Willow said. "That would defeat the purpose of practice questions."  
  
"But I'm the Chosen One! And also stupid, apparently." Buffy pointed out, looking bitterly down at the paper. "Doesn't that get me special treatment?"  
  
"Which one?"  
  
"The stupid one?" Buffy tried.  
  
"No," Willow said.  
  
"The Chosen One... um, one?"   
  
"No," Willow said, smiling again.  
  
"Fine," Buffy said, settling down in her chair with a sulky expression. "But when I get kicked out of school, and have to get a job at the malls selling shoes to Cordelia, I'm *not* slaying any more school monsters. Not unless they give me class credit for it." Her expression brightened and she sat up straight. "Hey, do you think that - "  
  
"No," Willow said emphatically.   
  
"But-" Buffy started.  
  
"Just... no," Willow said, and this time she really did smile. "Nice try, though."  
  
Buffy made a noise like 'hmph' and bent over her paper.  
  
Maybe I should tell her, Willow thought unexpectedly. Maybe it doesn't have to be this way.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Willow could see Buffy scribbling something on her notebook that looked suspiciously like a stick figure version of the demon they'd found that afternoon in the girl's washroom on the second floor.   
  
She looks so young, Willow thought. She is so young. And everything about Angelus hurts her; you can see it in her eyes.   
  
Buffy was now adding a round head being crushed in the demon's jaws, a scowling head with X-ed out eyes and long dark hair.   
  
Heh, Willow thought, momentarily distracted.   
  
Buffy smiled at the drawing, and Willow's heart sank. She's happy, Willow thought. With all that's going on, she's still happy some of the time. That's a fragile thing. I could take that from her. I could be the thing that breaks her.  
  
I can't tell her.   
  
And the day blurred again.   
  
Six hours later, Willow was blinking into the driving rain, flat on her back on the muddy ground with no breath in her lungs and a stick poking into her back.   
  
Buffy extended a hand to her. "You okay?" Buffy asked.  
  
Willow nodded numbly. She took Buffy's hand and let her friend pull her to her feet, trying very hard not to stare.   
  
Buffy was death in a tank top, blood and dirt matting in her wet hair and trickling across her forehead, angry red scratches sharp as tattoos on her arms where the demon had clawed her. The demon itself was a barely identifiable shape lying on the ground behind her, bleeding green and gold that melded with the rain and washed away.   
  
You know, Willow thought dazedly, maybe Buffy isn't all that fragile.   
  
Maybe I could tell her.  
  
Maybe that's just the concussion talking.  
  
"C'mon, Wills," Buffy said cheerfully, taking her arm. "Let's go tell the guys that we came, I slew, and now they get clean up duty."  
  
"Well, I didn't really do anything -" Willow started to say, and then caught herself. Hey, she was being pursued-caught? controlled? something anyway, something not good-by a bloodthirsty demon, and in that situation even she didn't feel like talking herself into clean up duty.  
  
Willow smiled at Buffy, another real smile, a banner day, and said, "You're right. They can do the cleaning up."  
  
Buffy grinned back at her. "I knew you'd see the light. And while they do the icky, wanna come over to my house? We can watch movies, do our nails, sharpen my weapons, talk, you know - girl stuff."   
  
Talking could be good, Willow thought. Unless it led to *talking*, in which case all of my friends will die and I'll suffer horribly. Which would be less good.  
  
The sun was going down.   
  
"Sorry," Willow said, meaning it, "I have to get home. It's getting dark."  
  
"Now, why can't everyone in Sunnydale feel that way? It would make my job *so* much easier." Buffy said. "Okay, you head home. I'll just tell the guys where the body is, and then I'll come over."   
  
No, Willow thought wildly.  
  
"N-" Willow said wildly.  
  
"And I'd better hurry!" Buffy cut in as the headlights of a passing car washed over them, briefly illuminating the corpse thinly veiled by the sheets of rain. "The police are pretty oblivious, but I don't want to push their stupidity too far! See you soon!"   
  
"No, but, but..." Willow called after Buffy's quickly disappearing back. But then Buffy was gone, and Willow was alone with the corpse, and the corpse was the least of her problems.  
  
I hate my life, she thought.  
  
She turned and started to walk towards her house, walking slowly despite the rain running down her neck and into her shoes. Her mind turned over scenario after scenario of how the evening could go. Most of them ended with her dead. Some ended with Buffy dead.   
  
One, hopelessly optimistic, ended with Angelus taking up a new hobby, maybe crossword puzzles, and forgetting about Willow entirely. Willow liked that one. She could buy him a 250,000 piece puzzle with a picture of a black cat at midnight, and by the time he'd finished that the rest of them would have died of natural causes.   
  
Oh god, Angelus wasn't going to like this.   
  
Willow frowned. "No," she said aloud, her voice lost in the thunder that crashed overhead. "I'm *not* going to think like that. Angelus' mood is not my top priority." She walked faster, feeling a sudden need to move, to escape; to escape from her thoughts, from the rain, and from the part of her that had accepted it all as inevitable.   
  
I hate my life, she thought again.   
  
This is not my life.  
  
I'm not going to let it be.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy sprinted away through the rain, leaving Willow behind. She could hear her saying "But... but..."   
  
Picking up her pace, she was out of earshot in a matter of seconds. Don't hear you, Willow, she thought triumphantly. Too bad. You're having company tonight.   
  
Willow had been being way too antisocial every since... Buffy's mind stopped there, shying away from the memory of Willow lying on the floor, all pale skin and dark circles. Better to think of Willow smiling as Buffy forced her to eat more pizza, blushing when Buffy teased her about Oz. Yes. That would make things better.   
  
She turned a corner and caught sight of the rest of the gang crouched surreptitiously behind a Dumpster. It would have been a more effective hiding place if the axe hadn't been poking out on top. It was a very large axe.  
  
Buffy waved at them and ran over, "It's all over, folks," she said cheerfully. "We came, we found, we slayed."  
  
"You killed it?" Giles said, frowning.   
  
"Yep!" Buffy said. "Smile, will you? It's a happy thing!"  
  
"Yes, of course, but..." Giles' voice trailed off, and he looked down at the axe in his hands.   
  
Xander clapped him on the shoulder. "There, there," he said, "I'm sure you'll get to use your Axe of Greyskull on some other demon."  
  
"Maybe Skeletor will show," Oz added.  
  
"It's the Axe of Grizkill!" Giles snapped, "And it's specially made for this type of demon. As it happens, they're very rare."  
  
"And getting more so," Buffy put in brightly.  
  
"Yes," Giles said, still looking put out, "How did you, er, dispatch it without the axe?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "I beat it to death with a hockey stick."  
  
"Ouch," Xander said, wincing, "It's the penalty box for you, missy,"  
  
"Missy?" Cordelia said witheringly.  
  
"As fun as this is, guys," Buffy said, "Willow's waiting for me. You guys get cleanup."  
  
"Where *is* Willow?" Cordelia said, her voice strident. "If *I* have to do this..."  
  
"She helped me," Buffy said firmly. "She went home, and now I'm going over there." She turned to repeat her successful unequivocal-statement-and-run procedure, but paused. "Oh yeah. The body is in the park."   
  
She disappeared into the gathering darkness, leaving behind some very wet and bitter friends.   
  
Hoisting the axe, Giles sighed. "Right then. Off we go."  
  
Once out of sight, Buffy slowed to a walk. She couldn't really get much wetter, and she didn't want to draw any attention.   
  
As she drew closer to Willow's house, Buffy could feel that there was a vampire nearby. It was a strange feeling - like a cross between pins and needles and stepping out of a hot bath into cold air. Not pleasant.  
  
She slowed down and looked around casually. With malicious optimism she hoped that it was the same vampire that had attacked Willow. Now what had Willow said he looked like? Oh yeah - short, stocky and balding...   
  
Her sharp eyes searched the area, looking for anyone lurking suspiciously. Sucking blood from someone would be also be a tip off. She saw no one.   
  
This is not to say that there was no one there.  
  
From the shadows under the balcony, Angelus watched Buffy looking for him.   
  
I do hope my new toy hasn't done anything foolish, he thought. Something like telling the Slayer about the *special* relationship we have. His lips parted in a wolfish grin. I'd have to punish her.  
  
Looking out from her window, Willow saw Buffy come to a stop in the middle of the road.   
  
Oh no, she thought, *please* just have lost something, please leave, or come in, but don't, don't, *please* don't -   
  
As she watched, Buffy surreptitiously slid a stake from her shoulder bag, palming it.   
  
No, Willow thought, and she was on the balcony now, rain pouring down her face, her hands tight and painful on the railing, please.  
  
It felt like a dream, like she knew what was going to happen, so much so that she didn't even flinch when a dark figure separated from the darkness underneath her balcony and moved towards Buffy. Willow didn't need to see his face.   
  
Willow's hands gripped the wood and she was surprised that it didn't splinter, and Angelus was almost behind Buffy now. A dream still, a nightmare now, moving towards a certain disaster.   
  
I should scream, Willow thought numbly, warn her, but... If he knows, he'll... If I don't, she'll die! I don't want her to die. I don't want to die.  
  
No decision at all, really.  
  
---------  
  
Tell me what you think?   
  
Note: You may have noticed I'm no longer using my hotmail account. This is because it insists that it's full even though it erased all the e-mails in it. All of my e-mail, people. My comments! *sobs* So, if you didn't hear from me, that's why. (I assume some people commented on the last chapter, you notice. I'm arrogant like that. ;)  
  
Anyway, I may not have gotten to read your comments, but I thank you for them anyway, and hope to hear from you again. I'll reply, I swear! Probably at too much length, probably with bouncing. Almost certainly with grinning. *g*  
  
See?  
  
I'm a person of my word.  
  
Secondary note: I've been nominated for my fanart for this story at: http://awards.shadesofgrey.us/ It's nifty. You should go nominate people, because, as I recently found out, getting nominated is *fun*. Spread the joy!   
  
Ash 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Part Fourteen  
  
"Buffy!" Willow screamed into the rain, and to her own ears it sounded too rough, too urgent, too loud to be just another warning in a long string of warnings. Look out Buffy, she'd said before, there's one over there. Look out Buffy, she'd said before, it's not quite dead yet.   
  
Look out Buffy, turn around, there's a monster in my head in my dreams at my door and he's there behind you and I can't let him hurt you but he can him hurt me, and he will, I know he will, I'm buying this for you with pain with blood with fear so please, please, *turn around.*   
  
Down in the street, the two heads turned to her at once, both pairs of eyes easily finding Willow's figure silhouetted against the light of her window with her arms raised in warning or supplication. There was distance between them, and rain, but Willow knew when Angelus' eyes turned yellow, and even across the space that separated them she could make out the message that burned there: you will *pay* for this.  
  
Buffy saw only a glimpse of the stricken look on Willow's face, already turning to confront the dark figure close behind her. She backed away quickly, her eyes widening as she recognized the face that was turning towards her. Angel, she thought, and slipped easily into a combative stance. She glanced quickly back towards the balcony, silently urging Willow to go inside where it was safe.   
  
"Buffy," Angelus said, his tone achingly polite.   
  
"Angelus. What are you doing here?" Buffy asked.  
  
A flicker of surprise ran over his features before he snuffed it out, and she saw his eyes move briefly to where Willow stood above them.   
  
When Angelus spoke again his voice had a lighter note to it, and he said, "Why, following you of course. Why else would I be here, lover?"  
  
Buffy eyed him suspiciously. The words were right... but something was different. "Stay away from here," she said. "Stay away from my friends."  
  
Feigning surprise, Angels looked around. "Are we near one of your friends? Oh yes. The little redhead."   
  
"You stay away from Willow!" Buffy said, and a fleeting thought distracted her from the strangeness that she still couldn't identify. Willow had been attacked, and now - "You haven't... done anything to her, have you?"  
  
Elongated teeth gleamed whitely as Angelus smiled. "No. Not a bad idea, though. What would you like me to do to her?"   
  
He'd never pass up the chance to hurt me, Buffy thought. He must not have been the one.   
  
It was then that she pinpointed the thing that had been bothering her - he was standing so far away. Using his body as an implied threat was one of Angelus' trademarks; every time they met he'd move as close to her as he could, taunting her with his likeness to her lover, reminding her that it was the same body she'd -   
  
But not this time. He was standing almost five feet away, and making no effort to get closer.  
  
Buffy took a step towards Angelus, and watched as he stiffened. With puzzled fascination she took another step, and a grimace twisted his even features before he shifted to his demon face.  
  
A faint growl rumbled from his throat as he watched her movements through unnatural eyes. "You didn't answer me, lover. What do you think I should do to Willow?"  
  
Buffy glared at him, her murderous expression lit by one of the periodic flashes of lightning. Her attention quickly shifted to the possible threat to her friend, and she shoved her curiosity about Angelus' strange behaviour to the back of her mind as she moved to stand between him and Willow's house.   
  
"If you touch her, I *will* kill you. Understand?" she said menacingly.   
  
Willow was breathing unevenly, leaning at a dangerous angle over the rail as she strained to hear his reply, her hair soaked to black by the rain and wind-whipped into tangles around her white face.   
  
She closed her eyes and whispered under her breath, "Please don't tell her. Please. *Please*." The faint sound was lost under the screaming of the wind and the ceaseless percussion of the rain, but she knew that he heard her. He had to.   
  
Angelus' posture straightened as the distance from Buffy became tolerable, demonic ridges smoothing once more into pale skin. His smile was lost in the thickening sheets of rain, but his mocking half-bow was still clearly visible.   
  
"Your wish is my command," he said to Buffy, but he was looking at Willow when he straightened up, just a flash of dark cold eyes, but it was enough to make her stomach turn over.  
  
One disaster averted, Willow thought, and so many more to come. The fact that she had just 'betrayed' Angelus came back to her with sickening clarity, and she had to close her eyes to fight off the darkness.   
  
Something wrong with that logic, she thought, and this is shock again, she thought, and even her thoughts were blurring around the edges.   
  
Willow leaned more of her weight on the narrow rail, her hands clutching at the wood as she forced her eyes open and tried to focus on the scene below.   
  
The two figures were still there, standing far apart. She heard Buffy's witty banter only faintly through the rushing of the wind and the blood pounding in her ears.   
  
With a depth of relief that was only a few steps removed from hysteria, she heard Angelus' parting shot as, with a vicious inflection, he purred, "You'll be seeing me soon..." to both of the girls watching him and faded away into the darkness.   
  
I'm sure I will, Willow thought numbly, and she watched him until he was out of sight. His departure allowed Willow's head to clear, at least partially, and after only a few moments of staring blindly into the rain she was able to push her fears to the back of her mind and gather up enough sense to go inside.  
  
She shivered as she stepped onto the carpet, and it was only then, in the warm dry room, that she was fully conscious of the cold clamminess of her clothes as they clung to her skin. Water trickled down her face from her soaked hair, substituting nicely for the tears that she couldn't afford to cry. Not now, not with - Buffy.  
  
Willow ran downstairs and threw open the front door before the first knock came. Buffy stepped inside, just as soaked and almost as miserable looking, and the two of them exchanged speaking glances.   
  
With a wry smile, Buffy took hold of the bottom of her shirt and wrung it out. "How about we get into some dry clothes, and *then* we do the girl-talk thing," she said.  
  
With great relief, Willow nodded and said, "That sounds like a plan." Girl-talk, movies... Probably for the last time, she thought, and felt the world start to bleed away again. She caught herself in time. She couldn't think about that right now, not with Buffy there.   
  
I should send Buffy away, she thought. Send Buffy away and open the balcony door and get it over with. Maybe that would help. Maybe then he'd... what? Let me off with a warning?   
  
She wasn't going to send Buffy away. Not yet. She couldn't stand the thought of being in her room alone - of being anywhere alone. After Buffy was gone she'd try to think of a plan - something to keep her alive.   
  
A possibility arose from the depths of her imagination, rendered suddenly brilliant by fear: Angelus might not choose to kill her... not right away. She could see it behind her eyes, dark blood on her skin and his smile, god, his *smile*, and she shuddered convulsively at the almost-felt pain.   
  
Keeping me... un-bloodied would also be good, Willow thought in a parody of reason, but staying alive is the main priority. I want to live through tonight. Please, please, please. I want to.  
  
Willow turned as if to look out the window, blinking away the insistent tears. With a heroic effort, she smiled tremulously as she turned back to Buffy.   
  
"So..." she said, "What do you want to watch first?"  
  
****************  
  
Two Hours Later  
  
****************  
  
"Aw..." The sound that came from both girls was half-sigh and half-whimper as the final credits rolled and 'The King and I' claimed two more victims with its mixture of love and tragedy.   
  
"But... No!" Willow said, her eyes wet.  
  
"I know..." Buffy said, looking depressed.  
  
"Are they even allowed to end a musical that way?" Willow said indignantly, "I mean, they get us all sucked in with all the songs and the... the pageantry, and then, boom!"   
  
"Let's not dwell on it... let's talk about something else." Buffy said, her tone suddenly determined.  
  
"All right," Willow said, her attention still on the movie. "What should we talk about?"   
  
"You."  
  
Uh oh, Willow thought.   
  
"Me?" she said. "What about me? I'm a boring subject. So, so boring."  
  
"Willow," Buffy said. "I know what's been going on."  
  
"You do?" Willow said.   
  
"Yes. I know you're worried about how to deal with him. "  
  
Worried, that's one word for it, Willow thought. Just a little bit. How did - what... this is not a good development! He'll never believe that I didn't tell her... He can't find out or she'll die! And then Xander will die, and it all goes downhill from there!   
  
"Please stay out of this, Buffy!" she said as firmly as she could manage. "It's between him and me. I started it. And I'll finish it."  
  
Hurt showed in Buffy's eyes and in her voice when she said, "But I'm your best friend! If you can't talk to me about guys, who can you talk to?"  
  
Guys? That's an interesting way to- Willow's thoughts were interrupted as Buffy continued, "And besides, why are you thinking about finishing it with Oz?"  
  
Oz? Oz!   
  
"Oh!" Willow said. "Oh. Yes, you're right. I was wrong. I don't know what I was thinking. Of course I can talk to you about guys. All guys. The entire male gender in fact. Not a single member of it that I can't talk to you about, living or..."   
  
Stop while you're ahead, Willow told herself. Right. Stopping.   
  
Buffy leaned back on the bed and said, "Uh-huh. So why are you thinking about breaking up with Oz again?"  
  
"Oh, I'm not- " Willow started, but - she was. In fact, she thought, I pretty much have to break up with him. That, or help him find a good insurance policy. "-I'm not feeling like it's working out."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes and patted Willow on the shoulder. "That's not a reason. Those are nerves. You're just not used to being in a relationship with a guy."  
  
Hah, Willow thought. I'm in a pretty permanent relationship with a guy, actually, thanks for asking. Granted, it's probably not exactly what you have in mind, but it is pretty much an 'Until death do you part...' kind of relationship. Hopefully his. Probably mine. Probably painful. Probably slow and painful and... Buffy is looking at me.  
  
"What?" Willow said with a tentative smile, hoping that it looked less fake then it felt.  
  
"You looked pretty spaced for a minute there," Buffy said thoughtfully. She grinned. "Trust me, if a guy makes you zoom off into the stratosphere like that, you should *definitely* stay with him."  
  
Slayer strength was put to good use for the next few minutes as Buffy had to bang Willow repeatedly on the back to keep her from choking on her soda.   
  
*****  
  
Any hopes Angelus had had that Buffy would only be a minor disruption to his plans for the night died around the time the sound of the eighth musical number drifted out through the half-open bedroom window.   
  
It was unendurable. There was no barrier between him and Willow, no matter what Buffy thought. He could reach in through the window and *have* her. Have her blood, have her apologies, have her *begging*.  
  
And then, of course, have Buffy know that something was going on. And have all of her little friends up in arms and circling Willow all around, day and night, with bristling fury and well-meant advice. It would make it so much easier for Willow, all of that reassurance and black-and-white comfort, and that was exactly the opposite of what he wanted her to have. She should have doubt, and worry, and fear for the night, and no one else to protect her against all of the things in the dark that would want her now.   
  
But the window was so close. And no barrier. And he could *smell* her, smell them both, and it was going to drive him insane.   
  
He left then, walked fast away, far enough away so that even the Slayer's heightened senses wouldn't be able to hear. And if anyone was watching the sidewalk a few blocks away they would have seen a man on the sidewalk, and a woman and then - blink - and nobody there, and a scream dying on the air.   
  
And in the narrow alleyway between two of the houses Angelus bit deep and tasted blood, ordinary blood, and thought of Willow. He threw the woman away from him with a disgusted noise, turning away even before she hit the wall and slid unconscious to the ground.   
  
How dare she, he thought as he walked away, the words repeated over and over again until they were meaningless, just a constant background hum in his mind and a red shadow behind his eyes.   
  
How dare she, how dare she, how *dare* she warn Buffy. Not smart, Willow. Not smart at all.  
  
Somewhere in the back of his mind Angelus knew that killing Buffy would have broken the spell, but at the moment logic was drowning under a tide of hunger.  
  
He didn't remember leaving the alley, didn't remember the walk back to the house, but suddenly he was there, looking up at the window, almost shaking with anger and want. Buffy was still there. Of course she was.  
  
He swung himself up to the overhanging roof and moved to take up a station by the window again, arriving just in time to hear the Slayer's high pitched voice say, "...I know you're worried about how to deal with him."   
  
Oh *yes*, Angelus thought savagely, has Willow decided that honesty is the best policy? You're just begging for pain tonight. Maybe you even wants it, to be acting like this, and isn't *that* an interesting idea.   
  
"Please stay out of this, Buffy! It's between him and me. I started it. And I'll finish it."   
  
Good girl, he thought. But it'll never be finished, you know that, a smart girl like you. But hope springs eternal, and that was an interesting thought as well.   
  
"But I'm your best friend! If you can't talk to me about guys, who *can* you talk to? And besides, why are you thinking about finishing it with Oz?"   
  
Angelus had to lean his forehead against the wall and close his eyes to keep from laughing. Trust Buffy to get it almost exactly wrong.  
  
"Oh! Oh. Yes, you're right. I was wrong. I don't know what I was thinking. Of course I can talk to you about guys. All guys. The entire male gender in fact. Not a single member of it that I can't talk to you about, living or..."   
  
"Uh-huh. So why are you thinking about breaking up with Oz?"  
  
"Oh, I'm not-- I'm not feeling like it's working out."   
  
Angelus' eyes narrowed as he caught the hesitation.   
  
"That's not a reason. Those are just nerves. You're just not used to being in a relationship with a guy."   
  
How perfect, Angelus thought. Willow's having nerves. I can help you with those, little girl. I'll... *show*... you how it should be.  
  
The long silence that followed made him curious, and he crept closer until he could see a slice of Willow's face through the window. Willow was staring off into space while Buffy watched her with worrying intensity.   
  
She suspects something, Angelus thought. She just doesn't know what.   
  
He watched carefully as the weight of Buffy's attention shook Willow out of her thoughts.   
  
"What?" Willow said, and he could hear the cracks in her voice even though she was making a visible effort to appear carefree and was savagely pleased.  
  
"You looked pretty spaced for a minute there," Buffy said, sounding amused, " Trust me, if a guy makes you zoom off into the stratosphere like that, you should definitely stay with him."   
  
Angelus heard choking sounds and knew that he had to leave before he started to laugh.   
  
He made his way easily down to the ground, and looked up at the lighted window, his mood slightly improved by knowing that Buffy was in there doing her level best to persuade Willow to stay with him.   
  
It was a moot point, as Willow would never have the option of leaving him, but a pleasant irony all the same.   
  
Besides, she had just helped to inspire an idea for a rather appealing avenue of instruction, something that would chastise Willow without breaking her. Something that might even bring her running to him.   
  
Angelus smiled to himself as he made his way to the centre of town.   
  
______  
  
Sorry for the long delay there - I became distracted by art and am also an idiot. Sorry again.   
  
Tell me what you think? 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Author's Notes: (lit. "Ramblings of the Idiot Responsible") Ah, I'm getting back on track. Next chapter some time next week, at which point all reviews for all chapters will also be answered because damn it, I miss the conversation. And also having an excuse to read over the reviews more than once, but let's not go into that. *grins*  
  
*Part Fifteen*  
  
Sitting on her bed, her legs tucked neatly up under her, Willow thought back on the years she'd spent watching the other girls talk together, all bright colours and quick giggling smiles, looking at the boys out of the corner of their eyes, and how it had *hurt* to know that she'd never be a part of that.  
  
Can't talk to other girls, if they won't talk to you.  
  
And couldn't talk about boys, not to anyone, not ever, because that would be admitting that she liked them, liked them more than books or math or knee socks, that she watched them just like the other girls, but more carefully. That it hurt that they didn't watch her, didn't even *see* her.   
  
And now Buffy was smiling at her, her eyes bright and curious, and the window was a wide black gateway to the night, and the night was full of eyes.  
  
"So," Buffy said, "what were you thinking about? Oz's eyes, right? No? His hands? He has *great* hands."  
  
Irony was hell, Willow thought.  
  
"I, um, was thinking about..." Willow's voice trailed off. Something innocent, she thought. Something believable.   
  
"Something *else*," she said emphatically.  
  
"Something else, eh? Not his hands? Mmm. Exactly how *far* have you two gone?" Buffy said, her eyes sparkling.  
  
"Nrgh?" Willow said coherently, her mind suddenly gone blank.  
  
Buffy waggled her eyebrows meaningfully.  
  
We haven't done much, Willow pictured herself saying to Buffy. Just a little kissing, touching... oh, and biting. Lots and lots of biting.  
  
The imaginary Buffy blinked and said, *Kinky!*  
  
Willow shuddered.  
  
The shrill ringing of the phone cut through Willow's thoughts and she lunged for the handset.   
  
"Hello?" she said.  
  
I love you, person who isn't Buffy, she thought happily.  
  
"Willow."   
  
Willow's smile froze.  
  
Angelus' voice was unmistakable - low and dark and vibrating with... humour?  
  
He isn't angry, Willow thought. Why isn't he angry? I mean, not that I want him to be angry, but he *should* be...  
  
"Willow? Who is it?" Buffy said, looking concerned as her friend continued to stand silently with the phone pressed to her ear.  
  
"It's..." Willow's voice trailed off.  
  
"Tell her that it's Oz." There was an audible smirk in the words, so real that Willow felt like she could choke on it.   
  
"It's Oz," Willow said numbly.  
  
Buffy's face split into a delighted grin and she bounced slightly on the balls of her feet as she began to move towards the door. "Great! I'll just give you guys some privacy-"  
  
"No!" The cry burst out without conscious thought. Don't leave me alone with him, please, with his voice and I can't hang up and I can't get away...  
  
Buffy stopped and looked at Willow. "Are you all right?"  
  
Angelus' voice was cold as he said, "Cover the phone with your hand and tell her that you're fine. And Willow? I'll still be able to hear you."  
  
Covering the phone with her hand, Willow turned to face her concerned friend. "I'm fine Buffy. I'm just..." She mouthed the last word soundlessly. "...shy."  
  
Reassured, Buffy grinned with understanding as she settled back into her chair. Picking up a magazine, she leafed through it as if to show how seriously she *wasn't* listening.  
  
Willow lifted the receiver back to her ear, turning away from Buffy.   
  
"I can hear you breathing," Angelus said, his tone low and intimate, and Willow had to close her eyes to keep the tears from coming.  
  
Buffy was there and all the lights were on and the sick feeling in Willow's chest was making it hard to breathe because he could still get to her, even there.   
  
For the sake of Buffy's ostentatiously non-listening ears, Willow carefully said, "So... how are you?"  
  
A quiet chuckle resonated down the line and Willow shivered, staring at the shining lamp on her desk with sightless eyes, her mind focused on a shadow that the lamplight couldn't drive away.  
  
"I'm fine, Willow," Angelus said, his voice deep and adult and male and very, very amused, "but there is one thing..."  
  
"O-oh?" Willow said.  
  
"It seems that one of my favourite dolls hasn't learned the rules yet." There was no anger in his voice, no threat, but Willow's heart was beating faster.   
  
"It's a shame," Angelus continued. "She's such a pretty doll, with white china skin and red silk for hair... Say 'Really?' for me, doll. We don't want Buffy to get suspicious."  
  
"Really?" Willow managed to choke out.   
  
"Yes, really. I especially love your skin... have I ever told you that? I love the way it feels under my hands... under my mouth. I can see your blood moving under it when you blush, and you always do. I think I make you nervous, doll."  
  
Willow's breath was coming a little faster now, and she swallowed, bringing another chuckle from the other end of the line.   
  
She spoke quickly, without thinking. "That's interesting!"   
  
Mentally she banged her head against the wall. Stupid, stupid stupid!   
  
"Isn't it? I'm glad that you find it interesting, because you really should. I've spent a lot of time thinking about the things that I could do to you, you know. Hours and hours, running it over in my mind."   
  
His voice lowered even farther, going husky, making her strain to hear him. "I thought about how nice it would be if you crawled to me, begging me to forgive you for your betrayal..."  
  
"I didn't-!" Willow cut off the instinctive denial at Buffy's startled glance. "I mean, I didn't do that."  
  
"No?" For the first time she heard anger in his voice.   
  
"No!" Willow said firmly.  
  
"You don't have to be afraid, Willow," Angelus said, his voice once more smooth and intimate. "I love your skin too much to scar it permanently... I won't even burn my name into it, even if that would help you remember who you belong to."  
  
Willow gulped. "You won't?"   
  
Less than reassuring, she thought frantically.  
  
"I won't. Cross my heart," Angelus purred. "But... this isn't to say that it's just forgotten, doll. You made the wrong choice and you have to be taught a lesson." Sly amusement crept into his voice. "And I think I just spotted the perfect thing to use..."  
  
"What? Where are you?" The questions came without conscious thought, propelled by a sudden dread.  
  
"Now, now. You don't get to ask questions - I do. It's all part of the game. Follow the rules, and I *might* give you a hint."  
  
The silence stretched out into minutes as she waited. Finally, Willow's patience snapped.  
  
"What's the question?" Willow said   
  
She realized her mistake a split-second before the dial tone hit her ears.   
  
No, she thought. Oh no.   
  
Willow stood clutching the receiver to her ear, frozen with shock. Got to think, got to- Ah! She dialed *69 and was automatically connected to the last number that had called her phone. The phone rang.  
  
Once.  
  
Twice.  
  
Three times.  
  
"Hello?" The voice was young, male, and totally unfamiliar. She could hear music playing behind him, a rhythmic beat reverberating down the phone line.  
  
"Um... hello?" Willow said hesitantly. "This may sound strange, but where is this phone?"  
  
"This is the Bronze, man!" The man shouted happily. "Who're you looking for again?"  
  
The Bronze, Willow thought and her stomach knotted.   
  
"Who's the band tonight?" she asked.  
  
There was no reply from the other end.   
  
"Hello?"  
  
There was something that might have been a moan, and then another voice came on the line.   
  
"No questions, Willow. I'm afraid I had to give you a penalty for that one, but don't worry - he was nobody you knew."  
  
Willow's eyes closed and she felt pain twist in her like a cord drawn tight around her throat.   
  
Dead, she thought numbly, he's dead, my fault all my fault, he didn't do anything, didn't do *anything*, nothing just answered the phone when I called, when *I* called...  
  
God...  
  
"Time for another test, doll. For the sake of the rest of the idiots in here, I hope you learn quickly."  
  
Click.  
  
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.  
  
_________  
  
End Part Fifteen  
  
Tell me what you think? 


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